Next Time, Let's Use A Rubber
by Mist Over Water
Summary: Alfred is heavily pregnant, and hating it, and so convinces Arthur who is 'mysteriously' gaining weight to get the baby out of him. MUTUAL MPREG. BIRTH. UKUS.


**Next Time, Let's Use A Rubber  
**Mist Over Water and Konata101

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**So this was a roleplay by Konata101 (who was playing England/Arthur and China/Yao) and I (as America/Alfred and the kids); I saw a prompt on the kink meme requesting "fucking to get the baby out" (don't quote me on that), and when the opportunity arised to RP with her, I could not help but ask, although there was some of our own twists to it...  
**

**So I guess the only warnings to put here are (mutual!) mpreg, smut (UKUS and 69ing, the usual rimming and blow job) and birth! c:**

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Alfred F. Jones had always had a small part of him stay as a child; it was something that Arthur Kirkland found rather frustrating, one that he could barely stand, but it was only when he began vomiting a few months prior to these events, he began hating the phrase 'inner child'. One trip to the doctor later (which involved a little too much filling containers with things, fingers going where they—well, the doctors at least—did not belong and some sort of scan he had seen being used in films and TV programmes to see pregnancy), they came to the verdict that he was indeed pregnant.

Surely enough the thought of carrying a child around with him scared him at first, but as his pregnancy progressed into the middle of his third trimester (as he was now), he could not wait until he got the damned parasite out of him, then again, that created the question as to where exactly the thing was supposed to come from (like hell was he sacrificing his penis just for a baby he didn't even want to be born)?

That is the shorter version of how our self-proclaimed hero found himself rubbing small circles on the stretched skin of his stomach; food packaging surrounding him, the usual can of Coke residing faithfully beside him, the video game controller on his lap as he waited for the loading screen to finish so he could continue his daily routine of killing zombies.

"Alfred?"

Completely oblivious to the fact that his baby momma was in a rather difficult stage of his video game, Arthur strolled right on in front of the wide television screen, a faded lime-green apron covering his shirt and slacks. "Alfred, I'm making dinner, and I was wondering if you wanted that… ketchup-mustard-relish-aise with your fish?"

For once, the Brit could say 'I'm making dinner' without striking fear into the heart of America. At least. His boyfriend craved _anything_ lately and, well… because of that, Alfred had a little bit more chub than would normally pop up during pregnancy.

Alfred slouched down in his seat, furrowing his brows in an attempt to kick the Brit out of the way as the controller vibrated in his lap, telling him that it was ready to begin playing. However, it was too much trouble to pause the game like anybody else would do, and chose to lean left and right in an attempt to see past the father of the "brat living inside him". He heard his character grunt over the groans of the zombies from the television, coupled with the slight movement of the remote in his hands, he guessed that he was receiving damage. "Damn it, Artie! Yes, get outta the way!"

"Fine, fine!" Arthur snapped, backing away from the crazed 'preggo' in front of him and getting his arse back to the kitchen. He stumbled a bit as he did so, mentally blaming it on tiredness. Augh. Sleeping next to a constantly tossing and turning bundle of fat and baby was more exhausting than you'd think. And it'd only get worse as soon as little Kirkland-Jones was born… or how Alfred insisted, 'Jones-Kirkland'.

Alfred chuckled a little, shaking his head at the irony of his boyfriend getting back to the kitchen as he paused the game, a pang of hunger overcoming him and the little bastard began kicking at hearing her (or his… Although the American desperately wished for a daughter, but never told anyone) father's voice. After several failed attempts of pushing himself up from the soft piece of furniture, he grabbed onto anything he could. Not wanting to admit defeat, he attempted as many positions as possible. Although it felt like hours, the whole attempting to get up fiasco lasted not even five minutes. "Artie!" He looked to the kitchen, hoping his yelling was enough to get attention.

Damn, he never knew how difficult it was being heavily pregnant; only now feeling sorry for every single mother in existence. Then again, he had never seen anyone pregnant being unable to do such a simple task.

As soon as he heard his boyfriend crying out, Arthur sighed through his nose and set down the whisk. Alfred took his condiments seriously as tits, and Arthur couldn't simply just plop a spoonful of relish and ketchup and whatnot on the side of his fish. They needed to be blended to perfection. On one hand, the Englishman was actually glad that someone constantly craved his cooking, but on the other…

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," the older replied, heading back into the living room and taking hold of the American's hands. "Come on, love."

Alfred gladly accepted his boyfriend's hands, pulling himself up, not even so much as giving a small smile to the smaller man in thanks. Instead he instantly made his way to the kitchen, grimacing at the way he had to practically _waddle_ to move anywhere. He reached his destination, and flung open the cabinet doors, muttering to himself about "stupid British people getting him knocked up and the stupid Anglo-American baby wanting stupid British food". His eyes practically lit up, however, as he found the yellow packaging he was looking for. Marmite. He pulled it out, and practically tore the lid off before dipping his finger in and sucking the salty concoction off his appendage.

He seriously could not wait to get this baby out of him as he caught himself doing it again. Eating disgusting food all the time, the putting on weight, the swollen ankles, aching back and just overall mood swings, which meant that he was angrily waiting for Arthur to get back to the kitchen and finish cooking. If he even dared miss the time he had allotted to eat, then he was sure there would be hell to pay.

"But it's almost dinner—" Arthur quickly shut himself up, deciding not to dwell anymore on the matter at hand and let Alfred enjoy himself and his recent craving. Either that or suffer through another hormone-fuelled rant about what a pervert he was for knocking Alfred up and how he better take responsibility and…

Yes, pregnancy was a joy indeed.

Setting down his whisk, the older male stepped closer to his boyfriend, a smile on his face that was slightly turned upwards. The fish was done and cooling off, anyways, so Alfred had nothing to fret over. "Have I told you how lovely you look today?" he purred, wrapping his lanky arms around the American's swollen midsection.

America did not respond to the physical contact, instead choosing to keep digging his finger into the dark concoction, and looking for his—probably—burnt offerings. "Yeah, yeah, old man," He replied; it seemed strange that his other half had been more affectionate toward him since he began to grow his bump. However, it was then he noticed something… Different. "Hey… Have you put on weight?"

The sandy-blonde paused for a moment, before pulling his hands away from the American, a slight rose-tint to his cheeks. How odd of Alfred to make a comment like that… it wasn't like he was the one carrying the child.

"I, erhm…" Trying not to make too big a scene of himself, Arthur took a quick glance at his body, and even turned his head around slightly to get a quick glance of his… behind. No, no flab or anything, thank goodness… although perhaps there was just a _touch_ of excess weight around his tummy. Made sense, since whenever Alfred wasn't gobbling everything in sight, the occasional bouts of nausea made him skip out on a few dinners, leaving Arthur to finish them for him. "P-Perhaps…"

Alfred smiled slightly; earlier on in the pregnancy when he had had a bout of fear about being a pregnant man, he had gone out and purchased some books to prepare mothers for what they were going to expect. "I read about this! Sometimes the father of a baby will get pregnancy symptoms! Like… Weight gain, nausea and cravings!" He laughed, hugging Arthur from the side the best he could with the bump in the way, grinning at the way the baby inside was kicking at her (or his) temporary home as Alfred felt a slight bit of excitement go through him. "Aw, babe! You feel that bad for knockin' me up, you're goin' through what I am!"

"O-Oh." Arthur couldn't help but crack a slightly embarrassed smile in return. Alfred was more knowledgeable than he let on. He certainly wasn't brain dead… although he sure acted like it sometimes. "Well, I suppose you're glad you're not going through this alone, right?" The shorter blonde chuckled softly as he turned around, placing his palm on his boyfriend's tummy and giving the warm skin a rub. "Now. How about dinner?"

Alfred put his own hand next to Arthur's, resting his head against the shorter man's shoulder, "I'm really sorry, baby, but I… I'm not hungry." He groaned; not being able to keep up with his own emotions as he felt a rush of frustration come over him, "Damn kid! Keeps messin' with _ev'rythin'_!"

Even though he knew Alfred was rather emotionally-fragile as of late, especially right now, Arthur just shook his head and smiled sadly. "It's alright. I'll just put your portion in the fridge, okay?" Of course, then the American would say he felt 'too sick for leftovers' the next day… When he didn't get up in the middle of the night to eat it cold, that is.

Alfred nodded; he really could eat, but… The damn kid messing with him again! Making him feel as though he was going to be sick at any moment! Fed up of the weight, fed up of everything to do with having a stupid baby strapped to his torso, he glared at the father. "Can't you just get the stupid thing out!?"

"Alfred." The Englishman's voice was a tad on the harsh side, likely coming across as a shock to the younger nation, considering how docile he was just moments before. "Just one more month, alright? I don't want my— _o-our_ child coming out half-baked!"

"You try having the damn thing living in you for one month!" America groaned; a part of him hating yelling at his boyfriend for, really, no reason, but… The guilt was overpowered by the need to show how much he _hated_ the Brit. After all, this was all his fault. Not his own. Nope; Kirkland had wanted sex that night, not him, and so he was completely innocent, obviously. "Please, I'd even settle for you just cuttin' me open and gettin' it out. Or just shove your hand up there and pull her out!"

The older of the two just shook his head and began to place what would've been their hot dinner in the fridge. He didn't even spare Alfred a glance, like the complaining mother-to-be was a toddler throwing a kicking and screaming tantrum on the kitchen floor. "You're being unreasonable," Arthur muttered, having lost his appetite as well.

Alfred practically growled with anger, glaring at the man's back, "Really? _I'm_ unreasonable?! I don't see you doing this so shut up! If you weren't such a pervert, we wouldn't even be in this situation!" He turned around, grabbed his behind—ignoring how it seemed a little softer than usual—and continued his hormone fuelled rant where, really, nothing made sense. "See this? Don't think you're _ever_ gettin' a piece of it again!"

_Well drat, _Arthur wanted to say, his thick brows over his eyes furrowing together out of frustration. N-Not the sexual kind, of course not. However, he simply held his tongue, trying his best to remain the adult in the situation, although it was taking him every ounce of his strength to hold himself back from giving that tush the spanking it deserved. "Fine, dear."

Alfred huffed, pulling his phone from the pocket of his too-big jogging bottoms (although, nowadays the name of the article of clothing was wrongly named); typing in how to start labour, he chose the first webpage that he came across. After reading for a short while, he groaned and looked to the Brit, "We're getting this baby out of me today, got it? And I don't like this idea as much as you're not gonna like it."

The Englishman nearly had a heart attack as Alfred took out his phone, fearing that the younger nation was going to call the hospital and demand that he get the child removed. Even though Alfred had insisted on a natural birth. Well, he may or may not change his opinion when it was time…

"Alfred, I—" Arthur nearly tripped over his own feet as he attempted to grab the phone out of Alfred's hand, although he still paid attention to what the younger was suggesting. "A-Alfred, perhaps you should just go lie down…"

Alfred held the phone above his head, hoping that his height and bump was enough to keep Kirkland away from the device—well, at least the stupid baby was good for something. "I'm gonna go lie down. But you're comin' with me. You're gonna fuck this baby outta me, got it?" He grabbed the small man's hand and began dragging him to their bedroom.

"A-Alfred-!" As soon as he heard the words 'fuck' and 'baby' in the same sentence, Arthur had to admit he was mildly disturbed. Well, he supposed the both of them could blame Alfred's sudden… _pushiness_, on hormones. "A-Alright, fine. But if you feel anything off, I-I'm calling Yao." After all, it wasn't like Arthur had been withholding sex from his partner during his pregnancy — not like he even _could._

Alfred practically flung himself on his back, grunting at the impact at first before happily taking the feeling of the soft mattress below him in, thankful to take his extra weight off his legs and feet. "Why would you want to call Yao?"

Not even considering the fact that his bump would get in the way, he spread his legs; he would probably be embarrassed later about how forward he was being at that moment, but all he could think of was being pounded into the mattress… To get the baby out. So maybe it was a little strange. "C'mon Artie. Do what you gotta do."

"Yao was going to be your midwife, remember?" Sure, Arthur trusted the mortal doctors enough for Alfred's check-ups and all, but when it came time for the actual birth, it was best handled by a fellow nation. Especially since China was one of the oldest nations that was still alive to this day, and had dedicated hundreds of his years of his life to making himself a genius in nearly every medical field.

Although he couldn't just leave Alfred hanging there, unsatisfied, Arthur was more shaky and intimidated than aroused. Of course, if he didn't do _something_ quick, it could cost him his life. Or even worse, his penis.

"Erhm." Awkwardly, he placed the palm of his hand on Alfred's soft thigh, rubbing at the warm flesh there, before trailing it down his leg.

Alfred watched the best he could over the mound of skin and baby as he sensed Arthur's hesitance; honestly, his touch was not as eager as one might expect from someone in his position. The hand on his thigh seemed to be shaking, and the atmosphere lingering about the room was stale. He sat up, and cupped England's face. "I don't wanna force you… I mean… You're okay, right?"

Really, America himself had no idea what was happening to him. Sure, he wanted to end his pregnancy now, and to be a parent—with _England_ of all people!—but… Childbirth. Yao may had delivered children before, but _men_ giving birth? He had no idea how the thing was going to get out of him. The only opening that really was available… He tensed, his heart quickening with fear at the mere _thought _of pushing a baby out of him.

The Englishman let out a small noise, almost like a cross between a grunt and a gasp, as he felt Alfred's hand gently touch his cheek. Well… as long as his baby mama wasn't angry or anything at him being such a pussy, Arthur figured he didn't have anything to worry about. "M-My… apologies." He couldn't help but lapse into his archaic sort-of speech when flustered.

And then, he figured it was wiser to simply shut up. Closing his eyes, Arthur puckered up his lips and leaned closer towards Alfred — while getting a good look at the younger male's beautiful, plump, almost feminine body, as it may be the last he'd see him like that — and kissed the other right on the lips.

Alfred could not help but smile as he felt the others lips against his, knowing that Arthur liked his new body, he decided against pushing him along foreplay and kissing, and instead let the Brit go at his own pace. Understandably, it probably was a little strange to be having sex without the main focus being pleasure (and apparently pro-creation); but instead to induce labour.

That did not stop him from grabbing onto the others shirt, and put his hands underneath the fabric, feeling the pale skin with the pads of his fingers, feeling over the extra weight that he had put on… But… There seemed something different about it. It seemed hard, and round… A lot different from what the books had talked about. It seemed almost identical to how he had felt earlier on in his pregnancy. The thought made him frown and pause in his actions.

"Mmhh—" Arthur quickly pulled away from the rather awkward and messy kiss, his lightly freckled cheeks flushing with that usual rosy-red colour that popped up when he was flustered. "Y… You stop that!"

He wanted to swat Alfred's hand away from his stomach, but soon realized that doing such a thing was quite hypocritical. Before the American was pregnant, Arthur used to downright _molest_ the younger nation's soft and flabby gut, and although he always protested against it, once or twice Alfred had nearly ended up climaxing from having his embarrassing midsection groped and nibbled and whatnot. "Is something wrong, A-Al… fie…?"

Alfred frowned, pulling off the older man's shirt quickly—despite every molecule of his body wanting to go slowly with this process—and looked over the middle he had been feeling just a moment before. His figure seemed more feminine that it usual was; he honestly wanted to laugh at how oblivious he had been. The weight gain was barely noticeable, but his chest… Oh _shit_, he actually had a defined _chest_. Like- just like his own (albeit smaller). He had been more nurturing, just like Alfred had been… But surely that was because he was going to be a father…?

With an almost shaking voice, he looked to Arthur and asked quietly, "When was the last time I topped you?"

Although neither of the two could read each other's minds, Arthur was beginning to get to the same conclusion Alfred was at. No, he… he would have known if he was with child, definitely.

Well, he _did_ experience all the lovely symptoms alongside Alfred — 'morning sickness', back and chest pains, the urge to eat everything in sight when you're not all that hungry… but like the young mother said earlier, that was just what expectant fathers went through, right?

To answer the other male's question, he soon recalled that _one_ night that involved the American dressing in lingerie and seducing him to bed, like a siren, and… "J-Just a few months ago, I believe," Arthur replied, staring rather dumbly at his own bump. Honestly, he kept telling himself it was only a bit of a potbelly brought on by eating Alfred's leftovers…

Alfred felt almost hypnotized by the expanse of skin in front of him, for a moment, he wondered if this was how Arthur had felt when he first saw the American growing to accommodate the small baby. Getting on his knees, he kissed around the belly, rubbing his thumbs all over to see if there was a slight imprint of any body part like he had experienced. There _was _something there though; it felt almost like a spark of pure adoration passing between him and the (hopefully!) unborn child he had put in to the Brit. "We… We can get a pregnancy test later, yeah?"

Finally, Arthur felt comfortable enough to let out his bottled-up emotions. Yes, he had a feeling that something was a tad off about himself, but he never thought it'd be more than just a sympathetic pregnancy. Or whatever it was called.

"N-Nnh… y-yes, that sounds like a good idea~" The older male smiled awkwardly, gritting his teeth rather harshly to stop fat crocodile tears from dribbling down his cheeks, but… well, nothing wrong with being 'girly' every now and then, as Alfred liked to call it.

This was just so touching to him. What they both thought was going to be an only child was going to have a 'twin'.

But Arthur couldn't shake off the feeling that plagued him, even though he knew thinking such stressful things was unhealthy for his baby, and likely Alfred's as well.

Children of nations were much more delicate than human infants, even though one might think it'd be the other way around.

One little issue in the government, and what was otherwise a healthy foetus was stillborn.

Arthur had experienced that first-hand quite a few times.

But he hadn't bothered telling Alfred any of that. He liked that innocent happiness the younger male always seemed to have.

Alfred traced lines over the bump, oblivious to the change of aura to the father (and mother!) of his children; lying back down with a laugh, he pulled Arthur down with him. He bit his lip soon after, however, realising the extra weight put pressure against his stomach; continuing the kiss before Arthur could say anything, he allowed his hands to feel over the hair and muscles, rises and falls, and _everything _that made England; England.

Although, he could not help but think… With who and what they were, how would they cope with two children? They never even wanted one child, let alone _two_! A jolt in his middle brought him from his thoughts and to what he and Arthur would be up to soon; and the fact that all too soon, they were going to be parents.

Sighing slowly through his nose as the younger male kissed him once more, Arthur let the palms of his hands rest at Alfred's shoulders, his body gradually relaxing as he let himself be massaged by the American boy's loving touches. Yes, no use fretting over all that. Besides, he had… a handful of children who were still alive.

Wherever they were.

"Mmnh…" His hormones kicking in, Arthur stared down at his boyfriend with half-lidded emerald eyes, his tongue just slightly slipping past his lower lip, giving himself a heated, almost snake-like expression. "…now you know how I felt when you first showed off that sexy bump of yours~"

Alfred searched through his memory to try and remember a time when the other had looked as attractive as he was at that moment, and when he failed, he grabbed his ash coloured hair and pulled him closer. "How about you shut up and get this kid outta me already?" Practically pushing their faces together; opening his mouth as he forced the other into a kiss, and hoping that the other got the idea that he was willing to do practically anything the other wanted.

Arthur nodded as best he could, softly murmuring a 'mm-hmm' as he French-kissed the younger male. And the two of them laid there for quite a while, sloppily kissing each other with their tongues, while the Englishman couldn't stop his thumb and index fingers from reaching up and pinching Alfred's juicy, dark-brown nipples.

Honestly, Arthur couldn't think of any other word besides _busty_ to describe Alfred's new… _assets. _"Nhh, say please~"

Alfred pulled away every now and again to let out a slight moan of appreciation of the attention being paid to his chest; ever since they had been preparing him for feeding an infant, they had been more sensitive than ever. The more time went on, the more he found himself rutting his hips against the clothed man laying against him; pulling him closer and closer, trying to gain any contact possible. "Artie…" He whined, not caring at that moment how utterly _pathetic _he sounded. "Please, fuck me…"

Arthur's pale lips curled into a slight smirk, and he desperately wanted to say something smarmy and condescending at that moment — like, _"nice to see you finally showed some manners"_ — but even he was in far too much of a lustful state to think or speak concisely.

"Haahh… of course~" Giving Alfred's nipple another tug, as if it were a cow's teat, the older male got up onto his knees and smiled warmly, almost maternally, down at his love, gesturing for him to spread his legs out.

Alfred hissed as Arthur tugged; being played with in such a way… It made him feel almost overwhelmed by how he was meant to feel. The act would usually be taken in a sensual way, but now… Now they had a _job _to perform, and each tug gave a rush of the feeling he was sure nurturing would provide.

He did not need to be asked; as soon as Arthur was on his knees, he spread his legs (after peeling his bottoms off, of course, with some difficulty due to the angle and his bump) as wide as he could do comfortably.

With a soft exhale, Arthur shimmied his way out of his undergarments as well, his chubby baby bump wobbling as he did so, and he just about nearly fell over onto his side during the whole task.

It certainly had been a while since the Englishman had a centre-of-gravity problem like this.

"W-Wait…" The older of the two swallowed his pride and leaned forward, a twinge of worry in his emerald hues as he stared down at his baby mama. And baby daddy, apparently. "T-This isn't going to set off _my_ labour too, is it?!"

"I don't care," Alfred answered truthfully. Whether it was the hormones making him extremely turned on, the fact that a pregnant Arthur penetrating him seemed the most sexy idea they had ever had or just the excitement of finally giving birth (he deducted that it was probably a mixture of the three), but he was more than willing to forget preparation of any sort as he wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, trying to pull him closer.

He highly doubted that Arthur's labour would be triggered… After all, his bump seemed too small to be able to carry a baby that would be born merely just from having sex. They had been making love when Alfred's bump was about that size, and he was still pregnant… And surely a baby that size would not live outside of the womb?

He shook his head. Too much thinking. _Way_ too much thinking.

Arthur too, managed to alleviative any worries he had by remembering all the times they did the horizontal (and sometimes vertical) tango during the earlier stages of Alfred's pregnancy. None of which resulted in any preemies popping out, so… he had absolutely nothing to worry about. Right.

Flushing all those troubling thoughts out of his mind once again, the Englishman snuggled closer to Alfred's soft chest, feeling almost like a needy infant himself. N-Not like he had a mum fetish, or anything.

"Nnh-" And then, just like a jolt of static electricity, their swollen nipples rubbed up against each other, a tad uncomfortable at first, but soon… Arthur started craving more of that feeling, of their natural man-breasts squishing against each other. "A-Al…"

Alfred's breath hitched in his throat; mouth open and desperately trying to say something (even if it was just saying the others name); needing to do something to increase any sensation he was feeling, he ran his hands down the hills and valleys that made his form; the expanse of his body he _wished_ their children would have. He hated himself for thinking in clichés as all he could think was that he was utterly _perfect_.

He buried his face in Arthur's neck, biting ever so lightly, and doing anything he could so their nipples would rub against one another, grunting in frustration as he could not move in a way to bring any pleasure to the action.

"Hnnhh~" Not even thinking clearly, Arthur took his own barely-developed mammaries into his hands and squeezed them, only to let out a doglike whimper upon feeling just how _tender_ they were. "Alfie… your knockers are so huge…" Well, huge for a biological male, anyways. "_Nhhh…_"

Tears nearly starting to brim in his eyes at the pressure in his chest, the Brit rubbed his itty bitty man-titties against Alfred's, while his fingertips prodded at the younger blonde's rosy lips. "S-Suck…"

How much Alfred wanted to say Arthur's 'dirty talk' was beginning to become a little creepy; he had always tried to ignore the addition of breasts to his anatomy, but _damn_ if it didn't feel good to be rubbed there! Especially with another pair that were beginning to fill with milk—maybe not as big as his own, but soon the nipples would be large, dark and leaking, ready for drinking (and why did that thought send shocks down his spine and to his cock?).

He opened his mouth in compliance with the other, and wrapped his lips around them; taking the majority into his mouth. Using his tongue to swirl around the appendages, spreading saliva around them; a slight suckling sound emanating from him as his cheeks hollowed and he looked up to the father and mother of his child (that could get confusing…).

"_Christ…" _More often than he wanted to admit, Arthur would buy lollipops by the bagful just for Alfred. The younger male certainly didn't mind that at all, although he was probably oblivious — or at least, Arthur hoped so — as to why his boyfriend encouraged his chronic sucker addiction.

The blowjob that the older nation's fingers were receiving at the moment was why. "God, Alfie, you're… you're such a _tart._" His hazy peridots narrowed, and slowly, he removed his digits from Alfred's sluttish pair of lips, a strand of saliva connecting his fingernails to the boy's tongue.

Alfred tried to follow the fingers, but when he realised that he would not able to he just licked his lips to rid of any excess spit that had accumulated there, and to snap the string that made sure they were connected. He grinned to him, "If you manage to do this, maybe there's a dick around here I can suck instead?" At just his words (albeit straightforward) sent his oral fixation begging for him to carry out his word immediately… If only he wasn't so damned persistent on getting the baby out today…

"I just don't want you prolapsing on me," Arthur muttered, scrunching up in slight disgust, as he simply observed his own saliva-coated middle and index fingers rubbing against each other. He looked like a little princess, sort of.

And then, without another word, he leaned backwards and pressed the tip of his index finger against Alfred's puckered little boycunt, still astounded at just how tight that hole was, even after their numerous shagging's throughout the years. "Mmh, perhaps I should've licked you down here…"

Alfred pushed himself down onto his fingers; the pain caused by built up tension making every touch seem to set his skin alight with more and more lust, and he knew it was only going to get worse when just one finger was inside, and the thought of being licked out… A part of him wanted to groan in disgust and say that it was repulsive that Arthur would even think of that, whilst the other half wanted to grab his head between his thighs and force his face to his arse.

Fortunately, he chose neither option, instead choosing to grip onto the bedding below him, and bite his bottom lip to quieten his pathetic feminine pleas; practically begging for any sort of touch at this point.

"…I wonder if we can still do this, considering how _fat_ I am now."

Smirking devilishly, Arthur slowly pulled his single wet finger out of the younger male's tensed-up entrance, watching his puckered skin stretch pathetically around that index digit as if it were a sex toy. And then, the Englishman tilted his head forward slightly, enough to give the head of Alfred's erection a tiny lick. Not enough to give the boy any sort of satisfying pleasure, but certainly enough to make him _feel_ it.

"Get on top of me and put your arse in my face," Arthur whispered — although it came across as more of a command — as he relaxed back onto the mattress and rest his head on a throw pillow. "It's been awhile since we, erhm, sixty-nine'd."

Alfred, missing the finger being inside of him, quickly done as he was told; finding it difficult, however, as the furniture below them groaned at his weight moving around, and the mattress equally seemingly struggling to accommodate his moving as it dipped; meaning sometimes the American would lose his balance and nearly topple over.

Eventually, however, he managed to get in position; looking at the others bottom half in all his glory; those pale, thin legs that he could scarcely remember having wrapped around his waist and pulling him close, then… He smirked; leaning down as far as his child would allow before bumping into the other, gripping Arthur's thighs as his elbows rested on the bed in order to get the best balance possible. One of his hands coming down to massage the others testicles; rolling them about in his touch as if he was trying to reacquaint himself with them. His mouth literally an inch away from the others erection, hoping that each small breath he would take tickled the delicate skin ever so slightly.

"H-Haah…" Oh _god,_ now that just wasn't fair. Arthur cursed silently as he tilted his head back slightly; Alfred's firm, peach-like pair of buttocks the only object in his line of vision. And he didn't mind that in the slightest.

However, he _did_ mind the fact that the younger blonde could most likely see his trembling legs, slowly inching apart from each other, desperately wanting his love to stop screwing around and suck him off already. Or at the very least, squeeze and bite his thighs. That was always fun. And Arthur had just shaved his legs the other day, too!

Inhaling sharply, the Englishman did his best to stop himself from mewling pathetically at the sheer _torture_ his jewels were enduring at the moment, and pressed his moistened lips against Alfred's pulsating tail-hole.

Yes. He was quite literally kissing his arse.

"O- ohh fuck!" Alfred instinctively clenched up; putting his hands on the others legs and squeezing as hard as he could lest he crushed the Englishman's balls in his grasp. Looking behind him, a rush of arousal hit his dick in such a way he thought he could have climaxed, just from the sight of being connected in such an intimate manner. Look back down to the others penis, he took a breath and slowly took him in, inch by inch. He paused half way, however, to draw back and lick the skin under the head, and to wrap his tongue the best he could about the shaft.

Once he was sure he was used to having his arse played with, he went back to rubbing the others sac, moaning in delight at the feeling of the skin under the pads of his fingers.

Arthur couldn't stop himself from letting a soft, muffled whimper slip right on out, his cool, soft hands pathetically groping Alfred's legs as his tongue continued to lick at the young mother's hot little arsehole. The green-eyed Briton swore he was going to start squirming uncontrollably at any moment, and he was certainly almost there, his almost feminine hips bucking upwards into Alfred's mouth, desperately wanting to just fuck the boy's throat already.

"A-Al…" Slowly, he pulled his lips away from the younger nation's moistened entrance, and Arthur flat out didn't care about the musky taste that lingered on his tongue. "I-I'm going t-to cream myself…"

Alfred groaned at the loss of the intrusion; pushing back to ensure that his backside was right in the others face, and taking the hint that Arthur wanted more of himself inside the American's mouth. Hoping that years of stuffing his face with food had pretty much had him practiced for stuffing his mouth to the brim without his gag reflex. His tongue worked at the slit, licking any pre ejaculate that it was seeping, and he bobbed his head up and down, hoping that it would encourage him to start—licking, fingering—doing _anything_ to his hole.

At that moment, he completely forgot that this was all about preparation, he could tell that the other was close to finishing, whilst he on the other hand… Not so much.

Grunting softly, Arthur grit his teeth and gave the head of Alfred's dangling, leaking manhood a sharp flick, and smirked cruelly as he watched it throb and grow a deeper shade of flushed red than it already was. Oh, he just _loved_ doing that to the poor boy.

"Nnh…" Taking that hand he just used to tease Alfred's cock, Arthur gave his fingers a re-licking and shoved them inside the American's sticky little arsehole, curving them slightly at first, and simply enjoying how the young man's hot inner muscles always took a little while to relax around an intrusion. It was simply precious. "S-Sweetheart…"

Alfred clenched his muscles around the fingers at first, instinctively trying to push them out of him. He stopped in his movements of servicing his lover, and focused instead on the feeling of being penetrated by multiple fingers at once; wanting to yell at him to be more careful, because _damn it_ if he wanted to take something wider to begin with, he would have gone straight for the dick.

He looked behind him he best he could with half-lidded eyes as Arthur spoke, "Nh… Y- yeah?"

"Oohhh…" Before he could form a coherent reply, the Englishman let his head fall back against the pillow, his thick brows knotting together in an almost pained look at just how close he was, and now… and now it was just gone. Still, though, his fingers continued to ram in and out of Alfred's hole as soon as it was done with that tensing-up thing it liked to do.

Trying to put a smile on his face, Arthur looked more dazed and drunk than anything else as he attempted to look up at Alfred. Although the younger male's arse in his face was making that rather difficult. "I-I'm a tad hesitant about starting your labour so soon. Since… awhh… you've never looked as sexy as you do now~"

He quickly bit his tongue as soon as he said that, fearing that Alfred would take that complement the wrong way and think he was _unattractive_ before he fell with child… which he definitely wasn't, but…

Alfred was angry at the statement, though not for reasons that Arthur was thinking. He moved forward until Arthur's fingers were pulled out of him, and turned around. Ensuring the his knees where either side of his waist, he reached behind him to hold the base of his erection. "Dude. No changing your mind."

Honestly, he hated riding the smaller man, but at this point, he was rather scared that the other would change his mind half way through if they decided to go at it in the missionary position, or even from behind. Besides, there was something about the fact that their bumps would rub together that made his heart swell with some sort of dormant maternal love.

… Fuck. He was thinking in cliché's again.

He positioned himself over Arthur's cock and looked up to the man in question. "You ready?"

Well _that_ escalated quickly.

Arthur figured he couldn't say anything other than a positive answer, and looked up at Alfred with his lusty emerald orbs, his lips occasionally parting as he exhaled thickly.

In fact, the Briton didn't want to draw out the foreplay any more than Alfred did. His own manhood was throbbing so pathetically, almost letting off steam, and he just _needed_ something tight and warm around it. "G… Go ahead," he muttered, setting the palms of his hands on the American boy's hips, his thumbs unable to stop themselves from rubbing circles into that beautiful tummy of his.

"…I can't wait to see you…"

Alfred watched with a small smile playing about his lips, wondering how it was just now that he realised how incredibly _adorable_ (and probably sexy, because… Well, anything he did was sexy) Arthur would be as a dad. But he knew he could not be caught up in his feelings for long, and just as quick as he began having the thoughts, he began sinking down onto Arthur.

He squeezed his eyes shut in mild pain, knowing straight away that they had done nowhere near enough preparation. He sat for a moment, full of the other, as he waited for his hole to stretch to accommodate the girth—which was much wider than the fingers that had had their way with him prior.

Alfred rubbed the smaller bump before him (which looked like it would be crushed by his own if he was not careful enough), wondering how far along the other was, and how they had not realised that he was pregnant before.

Arthur sighed and let his eyes roll back, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in an almost canine-like expression. Oh god, _yes._ He just loved this feeling whenever he penetrated Alfred, like… like his manhood was being completely and utterly suffocated. "_A-Alfie-!_"

Sure, the younger man's inhuman strength often made Arthur feel uncomfortably inferior, but he always reminded himself that Alfred's muscles were insanely strong and tight everywhere. Even in his anus. _Especially_ there. "N-Nhhh…" Trying not to pass out from the sensation of those twitching, straining insides swallowing his nether regions whole, the Briton slowly — but not hesitantly — began to move his hips. Or at least, he tried to.

That was rather tricky with the heavily pregnant boy sitting on top of him. "S-Scream for me."

Alfred complied with Arthur's demands.

Beginning to practically bounce up and down, move back and forth, and overall fucking himself on the 'living sex toy' below him; all he could ask himself throughout was how Arthur _continued _to feel so damned big inside of him? Each time their hips met—or rather slapped together violently—a cry of Arthur's name tumbled from his lips; praising him as a deity.

Although, there was the slight feeling of being uncomfortable from his angle, a pain from his stomach was beginning to form, probably from the mass of skin jumping with its owner, and a dull ache in his chest growing. Without a second thought, he slowed down in riding Arthur to rub around his darkened buds; trying to sooth them the best he could.

Every time that Alfred's swollen tummy rubbed up against his — not too harshly, thankfully, just a tiny nudge whenever the younger blonde bucked his hips downwards — Arthur nearly felt a jolt surge up his spine, occasionally evoking a rather pathetic groan from him with an arch of his back. "A-Alfie…"

He'd never admit it outside of the bedroom, but he just _loved_ using that nickname.

But as the other male stopped, the Brit was suddenly pulled out of his funk and stared up at Alfred, a twinge of worry on his face. The American boy almost always _never_ stopped until he reached his completion — and his partner's. He wasn't as selfish as one might think. "A… Alfred, something wrong?" Arthur licked his chapped lips, grunting uncomfortably as he began to grow soft rather quickly inside the other.

As he noticed the young mother rubbing at his swollen nipples, however, Arthur reached up a hand as best he could, and lightly pressed it against the peach-coloured skin of his breast. "…need some help with that, love?"

Alfred leant down slightly to allow Arthur to put more pressure against him, "Th- they hurt," he told, beginning his rhythm again, noticing the other beginning to soften. He tried to make his movements more pronounced, to let Arthur feel them bounce each time he would slide down his cock. He continued the same volume of saying his name, not knowing where to keep his head, thus meaning it was in all directions.

He was close; he could practically taste the sweet bliss of release. But it seemed impossible to reach, "T- touch me!" He really could not tell if it was a yell or a scream; all he knew was that the pressure on the bottom of his stomach was beginning to distract him, and the pain was beginning to intensify.

Now, Arthur knew where Alfred wanted to be touched. With each slap of their hips, the older male could feel his former colony's member pressing hard against his rounded stomach — although it was still rather flat in comparison to Alfred's bump.

He should've been more disturbed that Alfred's cock was only inches away from his unborn child, but… somehow, that only made the whole ordeal even more scandalous. "Hmm~"

Arthur moved his fingers closer to Alfred's nipples, and upon closer examination, tiny beads of watery milk were starting to dribble out as a result of the stimulation the American had been inflicting on himself.

And the older blonde could've just died right there and then. "Nnhh… l-look at you, making all that milk for daddy~"

Without thinking, Alfred had begun replying, "Yeah, daddy…" He was panting at this point, much like a bitch in heat; desperate for the other to cum deep inside, panting his inner walls white so that he would forever belong to Arthur. "Daddy, I- It's all for you…"

It was not exactly where he wanted Arthur to touch him, but it was better than nothing; desperately trying to stop himself from the climax that he had reached, wanting the older mother—father, whatever—to finish before he did. It was becoming too much.

"D- daddy, can I cum?" He asked, squeezing his muscles tightly to try and bring him to the brink as well.

"G-Go ahead-!" That was all the Brit could choke out, before he arched himself nearly up off the bed, his hands tugging on Alfred's teats, hard enough to get a sudden spurt of milk out of the American mother-to-be.

Arthur's lithe frame shuddered and trembled as he orgasmed, his thick mass pressing nice and hard against that one spot that made Alfred a definite _screamer._ All the while, his hands kneaded and squished those beautiful, leaking, B-cup sized breasts together, as if he were preparing bread dough.

"D-Daddy's… sexy baby…"

Alfred let out what was possibly the most feminine sounding of male orgasms he had heard; his release covering the almost bloated skin that was keeping him from his child that Arthur was carrying. A small part of him wanted to reach out and spread the semen over the expanse of skin, to reassure himself that the life inside was his, marking the middle that was hiding the little life as his, and only his… But quickly brushed that thought aside. He fell to the side; the softening member inside of him slipping out as well.

He lay on his side, watching Arthur for a moment. He smirked, and grabbed the hair on the back of his head, pushing him toward his chest, "So, you made me leak milk. You gonna clean it up…?" Honestly. A part of him kicked himself for asking of something that Arthur would no doubt find grotesque, but another part of him wanted to know if he loved him enough to taste Alfred's own milk, that had been made to help the Kirkland-Jones child. After all, it _was_ his fault they were in this situation after all…

Despite the fact that Arthur was the one doing the penetrating just moments before, Alfred certainly seemed rather foxy and _take-charge_ right now. And god, did the Brit just love it when his former colony pulled that whole topping from the bottom… _thing._ "Mm. Of course."

Getting up on his slender hands and knees as best he could, the older male almost purred like a hungry kitten as he smiled up at the mother — and father — of his child, and just to tease the other, he let his salmon-coloured tongue run along his upper lip, nice and slowly, nearly salivating at the sight of Alfred's milky breasts.

Of course, his milk was _probably_ going to taste more like hot, fatty milkshake than anything else… even though Arthur had gone through great lengths to monitor Alfred's diet. "Mhh~" Without another word, he wrapped his lips around a leaking teat, and began to suckle on it, as if he were a nursing infant himself.

Alfred gasped at the warmth of nursing; leaning down to kiss the top of his head, and to take in the natural scent he was emanating. Had he always smelt so good after sex, or was it just now that he was heavily pregnant and he had an increased sense of smell? It seemed as though the bottom of his stomach was beginning to hurt at the thought of how much he loved the two foetus' and the man that was currently latched onto him.

And for a moment, he began questioning exactly why he had wanted to get the baby out of him; life seemed pretty good, and pregnancy sex had always been amazing for the two, but whilst they _both_ were pregnant? Mind-blowing. Words could not even begin to describe.

Though of course the little bastard decided to ruin the picture perfect moment as a gush of liquid rushed out of him. Of course now of all times would be the perfect time for his waters to break.

Actually… Alfred's milk wasn't all that bad, as Arthur thought it would be. Oddly sweet, yes, but the taste and smell of the natural substance was just so addicting, that the older male simply couldn't stop _suckling._ "Mmhh~" His mind remained in that childish trance, and he was unable to keep his slender body from curling around Alfred's bump for warmth, like he was a nest for an egg, and then—

And then something was definitely off.

Arthur didn't even need to feel the dampness soaking into the sheets, just the way Alfred suddenly tensed like that was enough to make him snap out of it and put on an entirely different demeanour. "I'll… I'll go call Yao."

Alfred grabbed hold of Arthur, trying to keep him where he was, almost in a state so they could pretend that nothing was happening. But the dull ache, Not that he would admit out loud, but he had never heard of a man going through this before, and all the thoughts of where exactly the baby was supposed to come from emerged again.

"Please don't," Was all he managed to choke out at first, holding England's hand tightly—forgetting his strength in a moment of weakness—and refusing to let go for anything. There was no way he could risk giving birth by himself. He refused to look at the parts that explained what would happen to his sexual organs—or worst case scenario, _arse_—leaving him with no idea what was ahead of him.

"Artie, please don't leave…"

"Shhhh." The Briton quickly ran his fingers through Alfred's sunny-blonde mop, which was beginning to feel slightly damp from perspiration. "I'll be right back, alright? I-I just need to get to the phone."

Of course, Arthur knew the younger male simply didn't want to be alone; he needed someone to cling onto during such a difficult time, even though Alfred was likely only experiencing mild pangs at first. Still, though, as he made his way off the bed, he continued to hold onto the American boy's hand.

Might as well give Alfred the coddling he deserved. While Arthur had given birth by himself far too many times.

"S-Standing helps," the green-eyed nation muttered, trying to coax his boyfriend up off the bed. But god, if Alfred didn't toughen up already, Arthur was going to have to be nursemaid…

Standing…? Alfred shook his head, not caring particularly how the other knew what to do, instead choosing to do as he said. Grimacing slightly at the dampness that remained on his skin, and the bed linen that stuck to him for a moment before falling back onto the mattress.

Even as he was standing, his legs shook, feeling as though he would fall back down at any moment. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, hoping the smaller frame would be able to help support the weight of both himself and the unborn child.

"No. P- please—" He was cut off as yet another, what he now assumed to be, contraction pass through his middle. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ceased breathing while it done its damage, and pulled Arthur as close as possible.

As soon as the stronger male nearly choked him with his arms, Arthur wobbled hesitantly, feeling as if he was going to be dragged right back onto the bed along with Alfred and fall on top of him.

"H-Hey, r-remember I've got a baby on board, too," the Briton muttered, still trying to make his way to wherever the fuck he set down his phone, while having Alfred cling to him as if he were a baby koala. "Al—! Alfred, I swear, if you don't get off me this instant—" Arthur swallowed heavily, trying to lower his voice a tad. He wasn't the one going through labour, after all, so he really had no right to act so demanding towards the other. "Alfred, I'm only trying to help you."

The feeling passed, as did Alfred's grip on the other male; he walked around the room some, hoping that in doing so some of the dull ache would disappear. Exactly _why_ had he been so excited to be a parent earlier? All it would be apparently was pain during labour, then nights of waking up every two hours to feed the stupid thing, and when it got older, what if it turned out not to like him?

A lot of good the pain was worth going through then, right?

He looked to Arthur, rubbing his stomach wearily; trying anything he thought might help in even the tiniest way, "Do you know what's going to happen? What I can do? I just don't want you to leave me…" And honestly, he hated himself for a moment for sounding so weak.

Arthur turned his head slightly, and gave the young mother a look. That particular look was a little hard to describe. It looked somewhat tired, disappointed, and mildly peeved, even though the Brit had a little bit of a smile on his lips, in an attempt to comfort the other male. "Why on earth would I just leave you?" Honestly, he was a bit offended that Alfred would even think such a thing.

Glancing around their bedroom, Arthur heaved a sigh of relief as he noticed his phone chilling on a nearby desk. Thank god Yao had been living in a relatively close and cheap abode just for this day. Perfectly convenient.

Grabbing the communication device and walking back over towards Alfred, Arthur gave the younger male a pat on the back to console him — although it was more like a post-game sort of pat on the back — and dialled Yao's number, hoping that he wasn't unavailable at the moment.

Alfred had subconsciously begun to notice that a small voice—some kind of instinct?—was telling him that standing was not the right way to do it, and so instead he got back onto the bed; getting on his hands and knees, lowering his torso to the wet material.

He looked back to Arthur who was speaking on the phone, and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl; how _dare_ he ignore the mother of his child's question! All he wanted to know was what was going to be happening to him soon!

"Arthur Kirkland, if you don't get your ass over here I'm going to shove my hand so fucking far up your fucking ass _your _kid is gonna wanna come out, and _I'll_ ignore any thing you have to say to me!" He yelled, grabbing onto the cloth in hopes of taking some of his anger out on an inanimate object.

Normally, Arthur would be downright aroused by the sight of Alfred in such a position, with his face pressed into a pillow and his juicy rump held up in the air.

However.

The Englishman's boner was so dead, that… that even if Alfred started stuffing sex toys into himself at that moment, Arthur would still feel less aroused than a wet sock. Or something.

His expression tensed as he listened to Yao's default message on his inbox. Damn, was he there? Attempting to tune out the profanities — and, admittedly, rather frightening threats — that Alfred was spewing out, Arthur gave a heavy swallow as he answered. "H… Hello. This is Arthur. Alfred's in labour, a-and…"

"_Arthur put down the phone or so help me I will end you_." Alfred really hated the contractions, if no one within a ten mile radius could guess by the yelling, and the definitely manly weeping—not crying, nope, Alfred was a man, and never cried in his life—that was taking place in their bedroom. He rolled over onto his back, lifting his legs up to try and get comfortable.

Seeing the other _still _with the damned device glued to his ear, he picked up the nearest object, not even caring what it was, and threw it at him. Well. Attempted, would have been the more accurate term; it landed just by the others foot. And… Damn it. Why couldn't he get in a comfortable position…? He went onto his side, and lifted his leg up.

And it was at that moment that he realised how the birthing was going to take place.

And it was soon after he realised his lover was never getting near his backside. Ever again.

"…yes, Yao, it's _definitely_ not just practice— P-Please, could you just get over here?" Arthur tried his hardest to keep his cool as well, but the fact that Alfred was hurling pillows at him was starting to make him rather nervous. And to think the poor Asian was hearing everything on the other line…

Well, Arthur couldn't say he was a quiet and docile little angel himself when he delivered his own children.

"T-Thank you." Finally, _finally,_ he managed to get off the phone and set it down on the bedside table. And, hesitantly, Arthur reached a hand over and placed it on Alfred's side, as if the younger male was a rabid dog about to tear his face off if he moved too suddenly. "…s-sorry about that."

Alfred whimpered, knowing the older man had more life experience, and so was bound to know more about childbirth… That's if men and women worked the same in this situation. But then again… He looked over to Arthur, he himself pregnant with their second child and he wondered that, if he should have been setting an example. Putting on a brave face so that the one now comforting him was sure that childbirth was not as bad as it seemed.

But then again, the age difference. "Arthur, do you know what's gonna happen?" He took the hand that was resting on his side, and stroked the skin with his thumb. This he could deal with, this he had heard about; that the nearer the contractions get to one another the nearer he was to actually giving birth. Luckily, they were still quite far between.

Might as well spill now.

"Yes. I do." Arthur did his best to smile down at the other blonde, trying to reassure the younger nation now that he seemed to be calming down. "It… it hurts. I know." He swallowed again, wondering when Alfred was going to ask him _why_ he just so happened to know. Still, though, he pushed that thought away, expecting the boy to ask him that particular question whenever he wanted.

"Just keep breathing, alright? It calms you down, I promise." Taking Alfred's clammy hand into his, Arthur gave it a comforting squeeze. "And… and you can keep screaming at me, if you want. Heh."

Alfred bit his lip, looking down in embarrassment. Looking down, he probably did overreact earlier on, "Yeah, ah, about that… I'm sorry." He circled Arthur's bump, for a moment, just enjoying the connection he felt with other baby that would not be ready to make its appearance in the world for a while yet. "Well, at least I'll get my payback soon when you're having to do exactly the same!"

Although… "But, how'd you know what to expect? I was always the one looking at pregnancy stuff…"

Arthur wanted to laugh a little, reassuring the other that he didn't mind being screamed at, if it made Alfred feel better. Provided that, of course, Alfred didn't actually act on any of those cruel and unusual punishments.

However, he could sense the curiosity from the other, and his expression faltered slightly. "I've…" He swallowed. "I've had… a baby— b-babies— before." The Englishman decided to leave it at that, unless Alfred wanted to hear anymore.

And then he realized something.

"O-Oh, hold on a moment, I need to get my trousers back on… heh…"

Alfred glared, watching the other getting redressed. He honestly could not tell what he was feeling; obviously the fear and whatnot of childbirth, but at the same time, a pang of jealousy came over him at the news. "Y- you mean that… I'm not…" He honestly had no idea why exactly he was so upset, the man was so much older than him, so it was to be expected that he had had a life before their relationship began.

But the gall of him... To keep such a secret! And it was pretty much after that, Alfred found it difficult to control what thoughts his mouth began to vocalise.

"Who?! Why haven't I met them? Who got you pregnant? Why didn't you tell me before this?!"

Arthur was regretting telling Alfred that. Then again, the younger male _did_ want to know why Arthur could empathize with his pains so closely, as if he had first-hand experience, so what did he expect!?

It took a while, but Arthur finally muttered out a response. "…other nations fathered them." And, sometimes, his own fairies were to blame. Even immaculate conception — although Arthur figured it was more accurate to dub his potion-fathered pregnancies as an early form of artificial insemination — was possible for nations of both sexes.

He could tell Alfred was jealous right now. Insanely so. Hell, he'd feel the same way if the child about to arrive ended up not being his own. But really… "S-Some of them were born before I even knew you, so don't give me any of that!"

Alfred groaned, "I don't care when they were born! I'd like to know if either of these stupid kids weren't your first! Guess I should've expected it though, Mr. Erotic Ambassador! Opening your legs to anyone who even so much as smiles at you, huh!?"

He curled around his stomach as the pain began again; breathing deeply as the pain started up again. Maybe now was the wrong time to be yelling things he did not mean to the father of _his _first child. A near forty-five second, non-stop ripple of pain made its way through his body, and when he finally relaxed, he threw himself back against the bed, cursing the stupid everything that went along with having a child.

"That's _quite_ enough!" Arthur snapped, whipping his head around to give Alfred a rather intense grimace. Really, he didn't want to come off as harshly as he was, but he really didn't like being reminded of his all-over-the-place sexual history.

Especially since some of the children he birthed didn't exactly have pleasant conceptions.

He didn't want to say — or shout — anything else after that, especially since Alfred was so emotional and going through such a difficult time, but… Arthur clenched his fist, almost about to hurl it through a wall if he didn't release his anger. "And— And I'm doubting that I'm the father of your child!" Stop. Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop— "I'll be _very_ pissed if it comes out looking _Japanese!_"

Alfred did not even take the time to glare at him, instead he began speaking whatever he thought of first; a part of him knew this was going too far. This should have been one of the happiest days of their lives, beings they were unable to marry, and here they were, yelling at each other, throwing accusations about.

"At least Japan would know how to satisfy me! At least I'd be able to deep throat him unlike you!" He pushed himself up onto his knees and crawled over to the other side of the bed to push Arthur away, "Get out! I can give birth without you, I can raise a baby without you… I'm the fuckin' United States of America! I don't need someone like you who couldn't even keep hold of colonies!"

… Maybe he'd gone too far.

As he was practically shoved off of the bed, Arthur just stood for a few moments, his dull forest-green eyes glossing over, and… he almost looked dehydrated. He didn't say anything, out of fear that his voice would crack. And he wouldn't blink, either.

"F… Fine." He managed to say it without conveying any emotion whatsoever. "I'm going o-out." With that, the Brit turned around and made his way out of the bedroom, not even glancing behind himself to see if Alfred was still doing alright.

Arthur wasn't even sure _where_ his feet were taking him.

Even though they had both said some awful things to each other, Arthur would never live it down if he actually left the house, and Alfred… and something terrible happened to Alfred.

So, he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or horrified to find Yao in the kitchen, boiling a pot of water as he organized what looked like a doctor's bag.

"Ni hao," the Asian nation greeted, briefly glancing up from his work to look at Arthur. "The front door was locked, so I went around back. I'm just making sure I've got everything."

Arthur didn't say anything, and quietly watched Yao as he grabbed his bag off the counter, reduced the heat on the stove, and began to head out of the kitchen.

"…is something wrong, Arthur? Alfred is alright, I'm assuming?"

Alfred meanwhile was back on his knees, rocking back and forth as he tried to find the courage to yell for Arthur to come back. Yes, he was angry that he had not been told that his lover was already a parent, but… He really needed someone. And if he had had children with nations before, with the fact that he had not met the children… Would that mean he would outlive them?

… How did it feel to have to lose a child anyway?

He shook his head, not even wanting to think about death before he had even given birth. He stood again, his legs feeling weaker than ever as he stumbled to the doorway, "Arthur?" He asked quietly, hoping that by some miracle he had overheard his small voice.

Well, it wasn't Arthur who just conveniently walked into the bedroom right there and then.

"Ah, hello, Alfred." Yao didn't smile, keeping his business-like expression on his face as he took the younger nation's hand into his, guiding him back towards the bed. "Have you been timing the contractions?" Barely giving Alfred the time to answer that question, the Asian male proceeded to go through what sounded like a memorized list. "Any excess bleeding? Any pressure on your back? Does it feel like it's coming too fast? Why is Arthur out in the kitchen and not here with you!?"

Alfred stared at the door as got onto the bed, going through the questions mentally, but not exactly knowing how to answer; is it coming too fast? How should he know? Excess bleeding? Well, there wasn't too much blood around him, so… No? Pressure on his back… He couldn't get comfortable so maybe. And Arthur…?

"We… We had a fight." He mumbled, looking down to his swollen stomach, although, without the liquid there seemed to be a noticeable decrease in the size, "And… My contractions are about a minute long… I dunno how far apart…"

"I see," Yao replied, setting his bag down on a nearby table and removing a cold pack from it, before giving it a quick squeeze in order to produce the desired effect. Aiyah, those melodramatic Westerners… "Here, this will break your fever."

With that, he practically dropped the cold pack onto Alfred's forehead, before seating himself onto the bed as well. "Alfred, I need you to spread out your legs."

Alfred done as he was told, but it was only then that he realised that they had not cleaned up after the most recent session of love making; he was thankful that his face was already red from the pain that was beginning to show non-stop as he felt his cheeks becoming an even more even more radiant with the crimson colour in embarrassment.

He looked to the door again, waiting for the other to walk in. This was in no way how he imagined the day of the birth being. Birth was supposed to be romantic and nice and supposed to bring the parents together; Arthur was supposed to hold his hand and let Alfred lean back onto his chest as he began their family.

That was how TV and movies portrayed it. That was realistic… Right?

Ignoring the drying clumps of white stuff on the bed sheets and on Alfred's arse cheeks — having seen worse, after all — Yao took a mental note of the younger male's progress, before reaching into his bag and taking out a neatly-folded towel, and placing it under the mother-to-be's entrance. Well, more like an exit, now.

Briefly, Yao turned his head and glanced at the bedroom door, surprised that Arthur hadn't come back in yet. Wasn't he insanely overprotective of Alfred?

Part of the Chinese male wanted to smack Alfred for being so… _wimpy,_ considering that he delivered his own first child completely by himself, without either the father present nor any assistance whatsoever.

Alfred gasped, feeling the tell-tale signs of another contraction coming on; curling up once more, he grit his teeth and breathed deeply. He looked to Yao, wanting some assistance as to what he should be doing; why wasn't anyone helping him?! It's not like he'd passed anything the size of a baby out of his arse before, and he'd never _heard _of this before!

Though… Maybe he was being over dramatic…

The pain subsided after a while (was it his imagination or were the contractions getting longer?), he flopped onto the bed. "Yao, go get Arthur and my God, _can you fucking tell me how much longer this bullshit is going on for_?!"

Well, at least Alfred seemed rather ballsy. That was always a plus. "Labour can last for several hours," Yao answered, getting off the bed and taking a moment to crack a few knuckles. "Especially since it's your first child."

Honestly though, he was rather peeved at both Alfred and Arthur. Of course, he didn't know what else to expect from the much younger nations, but still. They had some stupid fight over something, boo hoo. There was a child to deliver here.

"Of course." Giving Alfred a brief look over to ensure that he could be left alone for a few minutes, the Chinese male walked over to the bedroom door—

Only to nearly bump into Arthur as he stepped in.

"_A few hours_?!" Alfred yelled in annoyance, pushing on the bottom of his stomach, straining all of his muscles, _anything_ to get the kid out of him. Nothing worked. Choosing instead to admit defeat and to just let an arm fall over his face, trying to hide the fact he had given up so easily.

Though when he looked up, he had never been so relieved to see Arthur standing there—though, there was the slight remains of anger and hurt from his words present—and chose instead to reach out a hand toward him.

Arthur didn't say anything as he stepped closer to the bed, although there was a weary look to his face, and flushed cheeks that indicated that he had been snivelling just moments before. Gently, he took Alfred's shaking, clammy hand into his, and peered into the younger male's eyes.

"I-I'm sorry I… n-never told you," he muttered, continuing to caress Alfred's hand, in an attempt to soothe the other. "I-I just don't like talking about it much. But Alfred, I-I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. Alright?"

Ignoring the sappiness going down before him, Yao turned around and began to head out of the bedroom, to retrieve the water that had been cooling down in the kitchen. Although Alfred and Arthur didn't see it, there was a little bit of a smile on his face…

Alfred pulled him closer, pressing his face into Arthur's chest. It really did nothing to help him, if anything, it made the temperature in the room rise; something he desperately did not need at that moment. But he had no idea what he should say. 'I love you'? It would be the truth if he did not feel like his once virginal-like hole was being torn in two to make way for the damned baby _he _put in his stomach.

"I- I'm sorry," He managed to say, voice muffled by the others body, "Why would you _ever_ want to do this to yourself more than once? Is there any way of hurrying this up!?"

"Shhhh." Arthur began to rub circles into Alfred's naked back, which was likely feeling awfully strained right now. And to think he'd have to go through all _this_ in a few months… "Heh, I've… I've asked myself that too many times."

Leaving it at that, he moved his own hands back down to Alfred's, giving him yet another reassuring squeeze. With Yao doing whatever he needed to do in the kitchen, the two of them were perfectly alone, and…

Flushing softly, Arthur glanced over at a nearby door, one that led to the bathroom. "S-Sitting in water helps. I-I've tried it before."

Alfred pulled away, following his gaze to the bathroom, "Then… Can we try that?" Then again, Yao seemed quite annoyed with the two of them, but he could not tell what for. Would he be pissed if they decided to change rooms in order to allow Alfred to sit in a bath—?

Then the contraction hit. Who even cared what the Chinese man thought? He needed to something that made the pain subside; sure, he probably could have gone to a hospital, telling them that he needed to give birth and to drug him up and ask questions later, but he guessed that he was probably too far along in his labour to do any movement like that….

For whatever reason, Arthur could simply _feel_ when Alfred's contractions started and stopped. Perhaps it was the way the younger male clung to his shirt, at least hard enough to prevent Arthur from going anywhere, and then his grip loosened when the pain was waning away.

Well, Yao certainly was taking his sweet time in the kitchen. Wasn't he supposed to be the doctor!? "A-Alright," Arthur complied, giving Alfred's hair a bit of a doting ruffle as he stood up off the bed, waiting for the younger to follow suit.

And Alfred did follow him, into the bathroom, grimacing at how _disgusting_ he felt 'down there' as he waddled into the next room. Damn it, where was Yao?! Why tell him he was going to help if he was going to fuck off and not even help!?

_And there I am getting worked up again._

Although, he wondered about other options of birth, and if Arthur had been through this before, then… Was there a chance that he might be able to have a C-section? He shook his head, mentally punishing himself—again—for that thought. It was _him_ that had decided to have a natural birth, no one else. It was his fault for ignoring the fact that one day he would have to give birth to the child that was growing in him.

The Brit tried his hardest to tune out Alfred's increasingly frequent pained whimpers, but it was just so… impossible. Like ignoring a puppy whining for food. "J-Just hang in there." Arthur glanced over at his former colony, swallowing heavily as he turned on the warm bathwater, and waited for it to fill the tub. At least enough to cover Alfred's lower back.

"My apologies!" a certain _someone_ exclaimed as he stepped into the bedroom. With all the finesse of a performer from his native country, Yao was somehow balancing a stack of towels, a bowl of lukewarm water, and a plate that held a tea set, on nothing more than his pair of arms.

"I couldn't find my special leaves, and I thought I had to make do with what you had, but then I realized I had packed them anyways and— Wait, where did you go!?"

Alfred stared at the water beginning to fill the tub; the sweet release of pain that he sought after so badly being held in front of him so teasingly, he questioned getting in and laying down as the water washed over him, but ignore any little voice in his mind. All he had to do was be patient for a short while longer. All he had to do was distract himself…

"Do you really think I'd cheat on you with Kiku?"

… Or ask insanely stupid questions from an argument that did not even matter anymore. That was always an option and a good idea.

"A-Alfred—!"

Whatever else Arthur was going to say in retaliation to that was cut off by Yao slamming the door open with his foot. Yep. He hadn't even bothered to set down the stuff he had been carrying. "There you are! I was worried that you two might've… might've… Well, I don't know, I can't exactly trust either of you kids."

Finally placing the towels, water, and tea set on the nearby vanity — without even spilling a drop — Yao looked at the bathtub suspiciously, before nodding his head and letting out a _mm-hmm_ sort of noise. "Ah, yes, I was going to suggest a water birth, Alfred," the Asian nation remarked, grabbing a convenient thermometer than he had conveniently kept in his pocket, before dropping it into the nearly-filled tub. "…good. Decent temperature."

"Can I get in now?" Alfred asked, staring at the pain relief that he so badly needed, not even bothering to question what the other things Yao had brought in were for, or even congratulating him on not dropping anything from wherever he had brought everything from.

The oncoming feeling of contractions began sneaking through his body again; feeling terrified as to how quickly they were happening now, he moved nearer to the bathtub. He could almost feel the heat of the water calming him already, just no more asking stupid questions and he would be fine…

"Y-Yes, go ahead," Arthur replied, deciding to drop all feelings of… well, he supposed it was uneasiness, that sprung up when Alfred threw that certain question at him. Oh well, no use retreading over old ground, and he certainly hoped Alfred felt the same. "Easy now."

Arthur took Alfred's right hand into his, and before he could take his left as well, a soft gasp emitted from him as he noticed that Yao was right on the money, already holding onto the American's other hand.

"The tea I brought is very relaxing," the Asian mentioned, continuing to hold onto Alfred as he stepped into the bathtub. "We'll see if that helps."

Alfred lay back in the water, groaning in pleasure and complete _bliss_ at the pressure that was taken off his back, and although the pain of contraction was still there, it seemed a little bit more bearable with just the pain on his stomach, without the aching elsewhere.

Jeez, it must have been a couple of hours by now, right? The baby must nearly be born…

He cupped his hands and poured some water over his bump, trying to see if that would feel any better by doing so—which turned out to be a failure. Although, he could not help but look up to Arthur with a small smile now that he was calm and not so wound up. Trying to think about what the baby might look like—_please don't let the baby have Arthur's eyebrows please don't let it have Arthur's eyebrows_—or even what sex it was…

Arthur couldn't help but smile right back at the other, his arms gently folding over Alfred's neck and shoulders. _Yes._ This was the atmosphere that both of them wanted.

"Hey, Al…" Pretending that Yao wasn't even there — and, well, he sort of wasn't, since he was pouring a cup of tea at the moment — Arthur let his fingers trail across one of Alfred's soft breasts, his fingertips gently pressing on the warm, stretched skin. "Are you looking forward to a boy or a girl~?" Just a little small talk to distract him from the pain.

Alfred slapped the others hand away, not feeling particularly comfortable having his breasts touched when someone else was around. He put the others hand on the still quite swollen stomach, and began rubbing the skin with Arthur's hand. "I- I really want a little girl." He grinned to himself, imagining how life would be with a daughter running around, how she would grow up, and maybe one day, would have to give her away to be married.

"What do you want?"

The Englishman sharply inhaled through his nose as Alfred willingly let the other rub his tummy, an awkward sort of blush staining his cheeks. God, he was such a pervert. "Oh, really?" How sweet…" Heh, if they had a girl, Arthur wouldn't be surprised if Alfred was overprotective of her. "I… I personally wanted a boy, but either is fine!" That wouldn't upset Alfred or anything, right?

"Here," Yao interrupted yet again, holding out a saucer and cup — which was filled with some kind of moss-coloured tea — to Alfred.

Alfred took the tea, nodding his thanks and took a sip; grimacing slightly at the taste. However, he put it down and looked back to Arthur, smirking even more at the blush spreading across his face. "Really?" Well, they probably would do a better job raising a boy than a girl, for obvious reasons. "Well, we've got two babies. We might be lucky enough to get one of each!"

Or knowing his luck, two of the same sex…

"Wait."

The Asian just stood there, his forehead creased as he drank in what Alfred just said. Two… babies? Well, the American didn't look like he had twins in there — and he probably would be the type to _show_ if he did — which meant that…

Slowly, he turned his head and glanced at Arthur. "Two… babies?" Yao repeated, for some sort of confirmation.

"Oh. Right." Arthur chuckled softly, a slight smile on his face, as he gestured to his own bump — a little hidden by his shirt, but it wasn't enough to completely obscure the few pounds he had put on. "I'm pregnant too."

Alfred grinned, reaching out a hand to run down the small bump; a sadistic part of him not being able to wait for Arthur to be in his position. Being able to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be okay—doing everything that Arthur was doing to him now.

But then again, he didn't particularly want Arthur to be yelling at him or threatening him or really anything he himself had done during his labour.

"Yao, how long do I have left of this. Seriously."

Arthur visibly shuddered as he felt Alfred's hand against his tummy, his cheeks flushing up yet _again_. He had to admit he liked his boyfriend's possessive side, but still. Well, it wasn't like he could swat Alfred's hand away, since god knows how touchy-feely Arthur had been during the younger male's pregnancy… It was only fair giving him a turn.

"Ah, let me check," Yao responded, ignoring the PDA going on as he removed his shoes and rolled up his trousers, before stepping into the warm bathtub as well. As he did a while before, he spread Alfred's legs apart and felt around. With his poker face on. "Oh, you're just about completely opened up… are you feeling an urge to push?"

Alfred's eyes widened as a chill of fear ran down his spine; a mantra of curses running through his head has he tried to understand that they were going to be parents very soon—that _he _was going to make them parents all too soon. He grabbed Arthur's hand, hoping that the action itself would give him some support, but still, he found his body shuddering at the idea of _pushing someone out of him_.

"N- not yet," He told Yao, "Should I?"

"Well, you're almost fully dilated," Yao commented, glancing up at Alfred and setting the younger man's legs back down in the water. "As soon as you need to, go ahead and push on a contraction, alright?" Oh crap. Gloves, gloves, gloves… better go get the sanitary gloves. "I'll be right back."

Arthur simply watched as Yao stepped out of the bathtub and made a mad dash for the bedroom. As soon as the older nation was out of the room, the Englishman gave Alfred's body a gentle squeeze — and he hoped Alfred didn't notice the tears cropping up in his eyes. "I-I can't believe it… our baby's almost here…"

Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, not squeezing as he would if they were hugging, just simply having his limbs draped around the shorter mans was enough for him, to realise that he was not as alone as he first thought. Although he knew he could not allow how he truly felt show.

"You excited to be a daddy?" He paused, looking down to the water, "Well, again…

Arthur scrunched up his nose at that, the look on his face mildly disgusted. "I'd rather not be reminded about how I was your father-figure not too long ago," he muttered, but quickly snapped out of his unnerved demeanour to continue stroking and caressing Alfred's upper body.

And admire how brave he was.

"Alright!" Yao announced, for lack of a better word, as he stepped into the bathroom with his gloves on, and several extra pairs stashed into the pocket of his pants. "You almost ready…?"

Alfred wanted to laugh at the way his face scrunched up in disgust, he too looked back to his colonial days. Arthur was a good father back then, and some maternal side of him made him swoon at how much of a good father he had been, and could not wait to see him the same way.

But as he was about to comment on this when the contraction rendered him physically useless. Upon hearing some distant voice telling him to do so, he spread his legs as far as the bathtub would allow and gripped onto the sides; holding his breath as he took Yao's advice and _pushed_.

When the pain passed, he let out a gasp of air, trying to fill his lungs of precious oxygen he had deprived himself of. Once he was breathing properly again, he looked between the two men. "I really don't think I can do this!"

Arthur gripped Alfred's shoulders, his slender fingers quickly massaging into the tensed muscles, anything to get the younger nation to calm down and focus. "Come on, Al, you can do it!" Well. Stroking the American boy's ego always motivated him. And this was quite possibly the only time Arthur was going to do it willingly. "You're the hero! This should be nothing for you!"

Yao just stayed quiet, quickly returning to his former spot between Alfred's spread legs in the bathtub. Completely ignoring how _icky_ the water was by now.

Alfred pushed Arthur away, biting his bottom lip and trying to concentrate on finding a pattern for when the contraction would start and when he would feel the need to push. He _loved _the words that his boyfriend was saying but, _damn_ if he didn't want to hear all that!

Heroes don't have their legs hooked over the bath, arse stretched to _hell_ for anyone to see, do they? They don't lay in a bath of cooling water, pushing a baby out of them, right? Heroes never did it in the movies, or in comic books… He probably was the complete opposite.

Of course, he did not have enough time to say this to Arthur as the urge came again, this time he curled around himself, practically putting his head between his knees, yelling something about "cutting Arthur's dick off with a rusty knife and shoving it in his eye"… Or something. The yelling somehow made the burning pain feel a little better…

Despite the fact that Arthur was shuddering with fear, subconsciously pressing his thighs together in an attempt to protect anything from happening to Big Ben, he kept his almost fatherly smile on his face as he kept stroking Alfred's hand, refusing to shut up with his encouragements. "Ah, you're doing great! H-Honestly, I bet Russia couldn't pull this off without sobbing like a little baby!"

Yao's hands were almost wrist-deep in Alfred's 'birth canal' by now, feeling around in case anything was out of place, if it was coming feet first… fortunately, everything seemed to be alright, but he couldn't slack off until Alfred was done.

Alfred grimaced at the fact that Yao was able to fit two hands inside him so comfortably (especially since when he and Arthur had tried… You know what? That story doesn't matter, all you need to know is that Arthur can't put his fist inside Alfred comfortably), a morbid curiosity wanting to know exactly how bad the damage was to his entrance, but as he tried to look, he failed in doing so.

Then there was Arthur…

He gripped the Brit's hand as hard as he could, not even caring if the other felt any pain, despite the fact that he was not feeling the need to push, or even any pain at that moment. He just wanted the other to shut up, because honestly, why would he even want to think of Russia at a moment like this!?

Arthur did indeed take the sudden death-grip on his hand as a nonverbal cue to shut his trap, although a tiny squeak slipped out of his mouth as just about all the nerves in his hand practically shut off. Although, it was probably only a fraction of the pain that Alfred was experiencing…

"Just a bit more and the head should be out," Yao commented, keeping his hands inside the other male. "…need anything else? Tea, perhaps? A wet cloth? Of course, you'd have to ask the_ dutiful father_ to handle that…"

Oh God. Alfred could feel the pressure of the baby in him more than ever. He could feel the curve of his baby's head keep him open wide, and he could definitely feel his walls pulsating around the intrusion. The water was helping so much when it was warm, but now it had cooled considerably, it was not doing much in the way of getting rid of the burning sensation that came with being stretched.

He shook his head at Yao's question, instead choosing to breathe in deeply as the contraction started up again, and this time as he pushed, he legitimately let out a _scream_; one that was a mixture of pain, frustration and the desperate want to just see the baby that would make them a family. Although once he was finished, he thought that his throat might tear.

He took a deep breath once the feeling passed, but as he did, he felt the pressure move back into him. "No! For fuck sake, _get the fuck out you annoying little shit_!"

"A-Alfred!" Arthur really wanted to bite his tongue right then, but for Christ's sakes, his boyfriend just swore at their unborn child! Well, granted, he or she was being rather troublesome to their poor mum right now, but still, couldn't Alfred wait until they were a teenager? At least then, they might act in a way that warranted a scolding like that.

Yao, on the other hand, kept that hard-to-read expression on his face as he managed to take hold of the baby's delicate head, trying to stop his own hands from shaking as he helped guide the tiny human downwards.

Alfred snapped his head toward Arthur, "Yes!? May I fucking help you!?" He didn't mean to snap at the other, and made a mental note to apologise later, but right now, he was downright angry and the Briton. His legs were beginning to become more and more difficult to hold up, and his eyes burned from pure exhaustion.

He tried to push, he truly did, but he just threw himself back, putting his head in his hands as he tried to deny the fact that he literally was unable to do this. That he should have just gone with the doctor's advice and had the damned baby cut out. He hurt, he was pretty sure he had hurt the feelings of his 'better half' and he was completely sapped of energy.

It was these reasons that led him to admit defeat by repeating over and over to Yao and Arthur, "I can't do it. I'm sorry. I can't do it…"

Yao briefly glanced up at Alfred, that stern, clinical look still on his face. "Alfred. Just try, alright? There's a chance the baby could suffo—"

Before the Asian male could continue, Arthur placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder, and pressed his lips together, putting on the most peeved look he could muster. Well, if complimenting Alfred wasn't doing jack shit, might as well do the next best thing.

"You're such a _baby_, Alfred," the Englishman sneered, shaking his head patronizingly. "I mean, god, where's all that spunk you had earlier? I swear, when I had _my_ first child, I practically slept through it!" Yep. Totally not lying there.

"Shut up!" Alfred yelled, trying to turn around to a position best suited to throttle the shorter male (however, Yao's hands inside him made it impossible to do), and so instead resorted to yelling, "That's 'cause you've had so many dicks up your ass you're a loose slut it probably just fell out!"

He honestly did not mean it, but at that moment, he knew he had to prove that he was so much better than Arthur, and gathering the little strength he had left squeezed his eyes shut, and _pushed_, straining every single muscle in his body to get the baby out, yelling to the Chinese man to just _pull the fucker out already_.

Arthur nearly squeaked in response to that embarrassing remark, but despite the flush of shame on his cheeks, he proceeded to snap right back at Alfred. "A-At least I managed to grow up and stop being such a puritan, like someone _else!_" The index finger he shot out nearly jabbed Alfred in the eye. "I'm surprised you even managed to figure out how sex works!"

"SHUT UP, YOU BRATS!" Yao's hands were no longer inside Alfred, they had been forced out just moments before. After that sudden eruption, the oldest of the three took a deep breath, and looked up at the American. "It's crowning."

Oh.

Crowning. The head.

Oh no…

Forgetting everything that had been said before, he grabbed hold of Arthur, bringing him down to his level… Again; the closeness and being able to hold something tightly made him feel slightly better, and also like _hell_ was Arthur going to see their son or daughter before he was.

He took what he hoped to be the final of his deep breaths and pushed, long past the stage of caring about going with his body, and just wanting to get rid of the pressure that was honestly becoming too much. Burying his face into Arthur's hair as he let out a pathetic cry.

If one were to look up 'relief' in the dictionary, one may find Alfred's expression as he felt the baby's head leave his body, falling back into the water as he allowed his muscles to relax for a short while now that he no longer had to even worry about the child being hurt during the birthing process.

Yao always went with 'you've seen one birth, you've seen them all'.

But even he couldn't help but be touched as Alfred managed to just about completely push out his and Arthur's child, its little face all scrunched up and admittedly rather _pissed off_ at having to leave its comfy little swimming pool. "Alfred? Would you like to feel its head?"

Arthur was just about completely silent as he watched their son — or daughter, none of them could tell yet — nearly make their entrance into the world. His heart just about flooded with a rush of emotions as the baby let out a shaky little squeal. "O-Oh, I-I can't tell whose eyes he— o-or she — h-has yet!"

Alfred was about the only one who wasn't a piss pot of emotion, and at Yao's question, he shook his head—but only slightly, this time, he seriously was worrying about falling unconscious and so every ounce of energy seemed precious to him, and none should be wasted.

But a hand did travel down, almost by itself, and he smiled wider than he possibly had done at the feel of the smooth head, and at the small sound it made, his heart felt like it was going to be ripped from his chest. A small part of him needing to _see_ the whole body in all its glory.

And that was all the motivation he needed for the final push.

"It's a girl."

The Chinese man immediately wrapped a dry towel around the tiny, slime-coated baby, her umbilical cord still keeping her as a part of Alfred, and although she squirmed and protested, Yao was able to swaddle her completely save for her head, and immediately handed the unnamed child to her mother.

Arthur's lower lip just trembled, and although he tried to stop himself from letting out a sob… he simply couldn't. "O-Oh… Alfred…" This was their _child_ here, born from love and into a perfect (well, almost perfect) environment, and… well, just this _once_, he could understand why that stupid frog was always going on about how wonderful romance was.

For a moment, there was no one else in the whole world other than Alfred and his precious little daughter. He pressed his lips against her temple and placed her against his chest; her wriggling calming but the distressed noises only getting worse as she tried to get herself used to the outside world.

Alfred laughed at Arthur, kissing his lips and moving so that he would be able to half rest head on the other and allow the Englishman to see the life they had created together. Honestly, it was sickening how cliché the image was, but at that moment, Alfred could not care less.

* * *

**Five months later**

Alfred knelt on the ground of his and Arthur's home, watching the five month old Amelia Jones-Kirkland (not Kirkland-Jones!) trying to figure out the toy in front of her; one that was made out of multi-coloured materials, some sides that were fabricated to help them learn about feel, whilst some others made a sound when you moved it about, purely for the joy of annoying their parents.

There was not much for him to do in the way of playing with this particular toy, but he still found a simple joy in watching his daughter learn about the world, and how things changed when her small limbs interacted with objects about the world. He always enjoyed simple moments such as that, where he could slip into his role as mother just as easily as he could his job as a hero and nation.

Then again, there was the whole 'preparing to be a father' aspect of his life that he had begun to suffer from ever since Arthur had fallen into his nesting syndrome—Alfred really did not understand why though. The whole place was baby-proofed still from himself having Amelia. Talking of Arthur…

He stood, picking up his daughter and holding her close, and although she whined slightly from being taken from her playtime, he quietened her with a few bounces and saying, "Let's go see where daddy is…" He left on his journey to find the Brit, and knowing him and his stupid delusions, he would probably be out in the back yard…

"Care for more tea, Uni?"

It was something a three year-old girl would be doing on a partly-cloudy afternoon. Not exactly the sort of activity a — god knows how old — male nation would be eagerly involving himself in. Now, perhaps it was normal for him to lapse into such 'feminine' moments at his stage of pregnancy, but…

This was a tad ridiculous.

Arthur was reclining against a tree, basking underneath its leaves, along with the shade provided by his wide-brimmed hat.

Yes. A proper lady-gentleman.

Now, if anybody was walking by, it would've looked like Arthur was pouring tea on the grass, but of course he wasn't! He was having a delightful tea party with his friends!

Alfred laughed, watching Arthur from a distance play with his imaginary friends—God, he hoped Amelia and Arthur's baby would not be able to see the creatures, he could not deal with living with more than two insane people. Nonetheless, he sat down under the tree next to Arthur, kissing his bump (with a small greeting) before going to kiss his cheek; Amelia in Alfred's lap letting out a noise of content as she reached for her pregnant father.

"Can we join with your imaginary friends?" He asked, smirking as he looked around to the air, before adding, "Or is there no room?"

"Hmm." Arthur pondered over Alfred's question, (even though he knew the other was just playing along… sigh.) before giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Well, I suppose you could sit over there. The fairies ought to be going now, anyway."

Smiling widely, the older male gently took Amelia into his arms, letting her snuggle against his soft chest, as he inched himself closer towards Alfred. "Ah, we're fresh out of tea, though…"

Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur's back, holding him gently, chuckling as Amelia babbled happily at being held. She touched the bump with curious hands, wanting to find out why it was so, and what would happen if she done certain things to it.

"You shouldn't be drinking tea anyway." The American told, "Caffeine's not good for the baby…"

"You're one to talk!" Arthur snapped, albeit not as harshly as to not startle Amelia, but definitely enough to get Alfred's attention. "I'm certain that Coke is far worse for a baby than tea—"

The older mother's breath hitched slightly, his hand immediately going to his tummy as he felt a sudden barrage of… well, not kicks, but certainly _flutters._

Alfred furrowed his brow in confusion, watching Arthur carefully; honestly, he had no idea what it was, but recently, he had become protective of the Briton. Not wanting him out of his sight for more than ten minutes, making sure that he was always by each other's side whenever possible.

"Artie?" He asked, letting his hand hover over the others, not touching, just tickling the skin slightly with his presence, "What's wrong? Are you okay? Is there something I can do?"

"O-Ohh…" Arthur just stared at his stomach, almost entranced by that sudden sensation that washed over him… and, come to think about it, it happened just a little while after Amelia touched him. "Heh, no, it's fine, just… y'know, he's thinking my bladder is a football…"

Alfred smiled, pressing against the stomach in hopes of feeling the other kick; although he had felt it himself with Amelia, it seemed different somehow when he was outside of the pregnancy. It felt a little bit more magical knowing that while Arthur was naturally going to be attached to the baby he gave birth to, the bond between himself and the baby was going to be made through moments like this.

"Say hi back to your baby brother Amelia!" Alfred laughed, the baby's hands still curiously on the stretched expanse of skin, wondering where the tiny movements were coming from. Her babbling increasing as she looked up to her father with questioning green eyes.

And it was the other way around for Arthur. There was just something about that overprotective father stage that he lapsed into when Alfred was pregnant that helped him become more docile and familial towards his 'own' child.

…well, mostly. Perhaps he just had better control of his mood swings, since this was the… well, he didn't really want to think of his other children right now. This one was most important for now. In addition to little Amelia, of course.

Smiling gently, Arthur let his index finger brush through the very few strands of golden-blonde hair starting to crop up on his daughter's head, chuckling softly as it seemed like she was attempting to talk. "Can't wait to see him, hm?"

His expression faltered slightly, though, quickly changing into a mildly pained twinge. "B-Bathroom." Without another word, he practically shot out his hand at Alfred, expecting to be helped up onto his feet.

Alfred jumped to his feet, grabbing Arthur's hand and pull him up; albeit with a slight struggle beings he had a nearly fully developed baby living inside him; with their daughter in one arm, he did not let go of the others hand until they reached the door to their bathroom. "You okay by yourself?"

Arthur simply narrowed his eyes and scoffed softly in response to that, as he grabbed the door handle to the bathroom. "I'm pregnant. Not disabled." Although, to say he wasn't the exact same way towards Alfred when he was pregnant was a lie.

Stretching a little, the older male walked — although it was more of a _waddle_ — into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Alfred snickered, going to sit down with the small girl in the living room, picking up the remote control for the game console as he went to sit down, where he balanced her on his lap. "Now, we're gonna teach you how to kick ass, alright?" The game started up, and instantly, his eye narrowed to the screen, readying himself for the onslaught of enemies.

"Ughh…"

After a while, Arthur headed out of the bathroom, actually feeling _worse_ than before. The little spawn just wouldn't stay still, even for just a minute, and all that squirming was _really_ making his back feel just _great_. End sarcasm.

Sighing through his nose, the Brit made his way to the living room, and simply shook his head upon seeing Alfred 'bonding' with their daughter. Deciding to just not comment on the situation before him, Arthur sat himself down on a nearby rocking chair, his fingers lightly tugging at the hem of his oversized shirt. It was terribly hot and humid today, and he wanted to simply go bare, but…

Alfred managed to ignore everything else in the room until he got to a load screen, at which point he leaned back on the sofa and sent his infamous grin in the direction of Arthur. He seemed slightly peeved at something—but then again, when _wasn't_ he?—but he ignored that fact for the moment.

_God_, he looked adorable on that rocking chair; it would only be a matter of time before he would be sitting with another child, nursing it with those breasts that seemed to have had popped out of nowhere… He shook his head in order to get rid of those thoughts, a slight blush coming to his cheeks.

"You alright?" He asked, although it seemed that that had been the opening of their conversations for a long time now; he himself was beginning to get a little tired of it…

"Alfred." Deciding to put on a smile for the other, Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head yet again, his hand briefly ducking underneath the hem of his shirt to rub at his tummy, attempting to soothe his baby once more. "Honestly, if I'm screaming or just unable to talk, I'm likely not fine."

Slowly, he hoisted himself up off the chair, and walked over to the couch that Alfred sat on. Giving another little bright smile for their daughter, Arthur proceeded to sit down right next to the younger male, sighing happily as he leaned against the back of the seat.

Amelia let out a squeal of excitement at her father smiling at her, and attempted to roll over to see him, but ultimately failed, however, Alfred was more concerned with his game then his daughter as he concentrated once more on the screen after the loading had finished. "C'mon stupid thing…" He muttered, tongue poking past his lips slightly in concentration.

"Alfred!"

Upon seeing that his daughter was in danger of falling off the younger male's lap, Arthur quickly swooped her into his arms, holding her close to his chest as he just did a while before.

It took a while for the American to even react to what Arthur just did, which only helped to make him even more peeved. "G-Godammit, Alfred-!"

Alfred paused his game, looking to Arthur and Amelia—who in turn was beginning to let out loud sobs. "Artie, there's nothing to worry about!" He assured, tickling the little girl in an attempt to calm her down, "I would've stopped her from fallin', and you know that!"

However, his attempts of calming the baby down did not work, and only ended in her quite literally _screaming_, and attempting to wriggle out of her father's arms. She was not crying, no tears were falling from her eyes, but still she continued to make a scene no matter if Alfred blew raspberries on her stomach, tickled her, or did _anything_ that usually made her happy.

Well. Amelia's screeching was certainly making his cramping back feel even better. "A-Alfred, she probably needs a change." Didn't really smell like it, but still, just a hypothesis. "Or perhaps she's hungry." The older man furrowed his brows together and rubbed at his forehead with his fingertips, unable to wipe the pained look off his face as his stomach seemed to turn.

It… It didn't feel like it was time yet… right?

Alfred did not notice the expressions of Arthur turn as he stood and exited the room to go to the kitchen; they had found that breast feeding was never enough to fill the little girl up, and had changed to bottle feeding a very short while ago, but he still managed to make the formula and heat it up as if it was as natural as breathing.

He brought it back to Arthur, shaking it to ensure that the whole bottle was warm enough, and sat down to continue playing his games whilst the other man fed their daughter. This time, he was concentrating more than ever in an attempt to—successfully—zone out their whinging baby.

Managing to shoot Alfred a rather pissed glare, Arthur adjusted his position on the couch — somehow trying to help the pain in his back — as he softly cooed to their daughter, bringing the nipple of the bottle closer to her lips. "C-C'mon, now. Aren't you hungry?"

The Englishman couldn't seem to stop his shaky hand, gritting his teeth as tears of stress started to build up in his eyes. Between Alfred's negligence and Amelia's distress and his own soreness in his midsection, Arthur's head felt like it was about to explode.

Alfred for once decided to read the atmosphere and—again—stopped his game to look to the two; just in time to see the child latch onto the teat and begin drinking as if she had not been fed in weeks. He stroked the Englishman's hair, hoping in some way it would calm him down, "You need to relax, Artie… Ya want me to get you anything?"

Pff. _Relax._ Sure, he'd relax as soon as Alfred stopped relaxing himself and lent a damn hand. He was the mother, after all! Wasn't he supposed to, you know, bond with his baby? "I-I'm… alright," Arthur grunted softly, rather obviously lying as to not send Alfred in a panic. "Just… a-a tad overheated, is all."

Alfred furrowed his brows, watching Arthur for a moment; there was something else wrong with him, but he dared not question what else could have been the matter. The other had been on edge recently, and he did not think he could deal with being yelled or ranted at again.

But there was something bothering him, and decided to take it upon himself to find out what. "Arthur. Stop lying to me. What's wrong?"

The older male's arms started to tremble, and thanks to that, he ended up squirting a few drops of milk onto Amelia's lips and cheeks. She didn't seem too fond of that, judging by her sudden fit of squirming and mewling.

Sighing heavily, Arthur leaned forward slightly, their daughter held tightly in his arms, before he inhaled shakily. "I _think_ it's time."

And it was with those words, Alfred entered a stage of what he could only think to be called 'overprotective father'.

He took the little girl from his arms and began feeding her himself, all the while saying in what felt like one breath, "Sit back, or go lay down. Do you need anything? Shall I get you some tea—or some water! Or a wet cloth, you need that? A towel… Or a couple of towels! Shall I go run you a bath? Shall I call someone, but _shit_ no one's nearby! Shall I get you to hospital? What shall I do with Amelia…?"

"C-Call Yao," the Brit ordered, trying to slow down his breathing, although it seemed like each exhale was coming out in a rapid pant. God, he felt worn out already. "P-Put Amelia in her crib… i-if you can. Just take care of her until I actually need you."

Sure, he'd given birth unassisted before. But that didn't exactly go smoothly.

Groaning softly, Arthur laid back on the couch, letting his head flop down on the armrest as he looked up at his boyfriend and daughter. Not wanting to sour the mood any further, he gave Amelia a small smile, albeit a tearful one.

Amelia laughed as Arthur smiled at her, before the bottle was shoved frantically back in her mouth to finish off her dinner. Alfred ran his hand over the other's forehead, muttering about how he was going to be fine, that it would be over soon.

He practically ran to where he had last seen the phone, picking it up and pressing the numbers for Yao as quickly as he could, and once he was waiting for the Chinese man to pick up. "C'mon…"

Despite the pain, Arthur couldn't help but keep smiling as he heard Alfred dial the phone, letting the palm of his hand rub over his strained stomach. Nice to see his boyfriend was returning the favour. Just like… just like what he himself had been doing for Alfred… was it five months ago? Wow.

By now, Arthur didn't even care that the lower half of his shirt had flopped up, completely exposing his swollen tummy, and just a hint of his chest. And god. The pain.

Alfred set the phone down after a short while, kneeling down beside the sofa. By this point, Amelia had finished her milk and was watching her pained father in interes_t_, whilst her 'mother' began to question his needs again; going through everything he could think of that may help him, no matter how obscure the thought was.

Honestly, he did not know what to do for himself; how was he supposed to know what to do with other people…?

"H- he's gonna be here in a little while…"

Arthur simply nodded quietly in response to that. Well, perhaps 'quietly' was a bit of a misnomer, since he was inhaling and exhaling heavily like he was some kind of machine. Still, though, he reached over and gave Alfred's hair a loving ruffle, just like he'd do after a spat between them. "D-Don't worry about me, sweetheart. Just go and put Amelia down for a nap, i-if you can."

Part of him wanted to tear off Alfred's dick for bringing all this pain on him, but… on the other hand, he was just so _touched_ that his love was actually being supportive right now.

Whereas most of the other fathers of his children were little more than sperm donors.

Alfred wanted to argue, to say that he was not going to leave his side until they had their second child in their arms, and that he would hold Amelia throughout; however, he quickly remembered how he had practically thrown Arthur around when he gave birth, and that the pregnant man had given birth before, and obviously knew what he was talking about, he done as he was told.

He literally only put Amelia in her crib, talked to her for a while, and after covering her with her favourite blanket, put the soft music on that would generally put her to sleep before returning to his position on his knees next to Arthur.

"Did you want me to take you somewhere else? Upstairs? Somewhere more comfortable?"

By now, Arthur was sitting upright and lurching forward as best he could, while mentally debating whether to get on the floor and squat, or stay seated for now. God. This was… slightly more painful than he imagined. Pff, so much for being a "loose whore" who could probably drop a baby out of their boycunt in a matter of seconds.

The Englishman closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, his hand groping around to feel at Alfred's shoulder. "J-Just… nnh… c-c'mere."

Alfred moved closer, not knowing exactly what the other wanted, but decided that it could not be any worse than what the Englishman had to go through with Amelia…

He wrapped an arm around the others back, rubbing the bottom of it in hopes to ease some of the aching, or to let the other know that he was sympathised with at least. He knew there was not much he could exactly do in this situation, but he still felt utterly useless.

There was also that hint of guilt in his mind that the baby was his, and… Well, it was _his _fault that the child was put in there to begin with…

Upon feeling a particularly sharp contraction, Arthur pressed his lips together and grit his teeth, unable to stop himself from digging his nails into Alfred's clothed shoulder to get his mind off the pain.

Alright. He had to admit, part of the reason why he was so _quiet_ was to somehow make himself feel stronger than Alfred. There, he said it. He wanted to childishly 'beat' Alfred in the baby-having competition. "_Fuck…_" Didn't stop him from letting out the occasional whine, though.

Alfred began to mutter a mantra of "hurry up Yao" throughout the contraction, shocked to say the least at the strength that was put into the grip. His weak little lover actually managing to cause the slightest bit of pain…

"It's gonna be okay," He muttered, still rubbing circles on his back, trying to relieve him of any pressure—knowing in his own recent experience it helped him a lot. "You're doing great so far!"

Arthur couldn't help but smirk a little and roll his eyes. Aww. Alfred deserved a gold star with a congratulatory message (in comic sans, of course) for trying.

"Heh, I-I'll be okay as soon as it's over," the Brit grunted, letting his fingers tangle through Alfred's hair as he leaned a tad forward once more. Hm. Hopefully that didn't come across as grim as it sounded to himself.

Suddenly, he hissed through his teeth and grabbed onto Alfred, his body shuddering as he attempted to make it through the pain without a noise. A little bit difficult. "I-I need to go lie down. It's like I'm sticking to the bloody couch."

Alfred's eyes nearly sparkled in delight at the prospect of him being able to show of how much of a 'hero' he was; he put an arm under the others legs, and lifted him. His other arm supporting Arthur around his back.

With that, with no thought of the others comfort or the baby's safety, he ran up the stairs and to the bedroom, laying him on the bed—albeit slightly roughly, but it did not occur to him to treat the soon-to-be mother with care.

"This better?" He asked, resuming his circular rubbing motions on the bottom of his stomach.

As soon as he was unceremoniously flopped onto the bed, Arthur let out a small noise of indignation. He wanted to rant at Alfred, that he probably could've walked himself if he had at least a shoulder to lean on nearby, _and_ not to mention the fact that the younger male could've dropped him and—

Well, no use worrying and making everything hurt even worse.

So, Arthur simply nodded again to placate the other, letting his head rest back against a mound of pillows as he continued to just _resist_ the urge to start hurling profanities at Alfred.

Alfred held the others hand, feeling over the skin and bone that made up the appendage. He had to admit, childbirth seemed a lot more romantic this way than it did when you were actually the one giving birth (although, there was nothing particularly the horrible in the works at that moment).

Although when the others breath would hitch, he would run his own hand through the others hair; he really had no idea how to comfort the other, so he was glad that so far he had done everything right as to not having Arthur being angry at him.

Although, at the rate they were going, it seemed as though Alfred would be the midwife for his second child…

Slowly, Arthur opened his watery, hazy eyes, his slightly swollen chest rising and falling visibly with each inward and outward breath. "Fuhhh…"

Perhaps the other reason why he didn't feel the need to scream at Alfred until he was blue in the face was because the younger male just went through childbirth himself not too long ago. Again, there was that little hint of satisfaction in Arthur over how much Alfred _cried_ over getting out a tiny baby and—

Swallowing heavily, Arthur cringed and subconsciously grabbed hold of a handful of Alfred's hair, quickly sitting up with his back reclined against the pillows. "I-It's coming fast." Felt like that, anyways.

Alfred winced at having his hair gripped, but ignored that for the time being as he tried to recall what had happened to him five months ago. He gulped nervously, not necessarily wanting to ask, but he knew he really had no other choice…

"A- are you fully… 'Opened'?" Maybe he wouldn't have to look, maybe Arthur was so experienced at birth, he would just know when he was ready to start pushing and would know what to do throughout without the minimal amount of help he was able to offer.

Then again, it seemed a little too soon for that… Did it go faster if it wasn't your first? Maybe they weren't as ready for another baby as they had originally thought…

Arthur felt like he just might break down and start sobbing. God. Alfred _really_ wasn't as selfish as he let on.

Well, all that might evaporate as soon as the younger male saw just how _icky_ baby birthing was. You tend not to really care when it's going down, but from another's point of view…

"N… No. Not yet." At least, he didn't think he had progressed that far yet. Then again, he still had his trousers on, which would likely make things a little difficult.

Clearing his throat, Arthur decided to simply keep calm and go about this business as if Yao would be stuck in traffic for the rest of the day. "A-Alfred. Go and get a towel. I-I don't want to have to replace the entire mattress."

_Oh, thank God!_ Was all Alfred could think as he left the room to get the towels; he really was not ready to bear witness to childbirth just yet. He counted the pieces of material, guessing he should put two down on the bed, one for when the baby was born and another… Just in case.

Re-entering the room, he looked to the man on the bed; really, pregnancy should go on for longer. He barely had enough time to appreciate how amazing the other looked with a bump, then again, he'd look even better with maternal instincts and holy shit they were about to be parents again.

That thought brought him out of his reverie, and he finally became focused enough to realise they needed to get him out of his clothes; that was fine. He could do that without catching a glimpse of what was happening to the others opening, right? He was a master in the art of undressing Arthur. No problem.

Although, when he got the piece of clothing off the other, he had not realised how to get the towels into position. Then again, Arthur had had to put up with so much more when Alfred was this far along when he was giving birth, and he was a hero, hero's weren't freaked or grossed out by anything, right?

He swallowed his pride and allowed his vision to venture down… And his libido was forever sapped by what he saw before him. He stared in shock for a moment, and forced himself to place the towels at the others entrance/exit.

"Y- A… Anything else?"

By now, Arthur was so unaroused, and showed a complete lack of care of his current state of undress, that… that he could just waltz around in public completely in the buff if he had to.

"Alfred." Grunting through his lips as he adjusted himself over the towels, Arthur managed to shoot the younger male a rather acidic emerald glower. Just enough to keep him on his toes. "If Yao doesn't get here, and you're _honestly_ going to be the midwife here, you're going to have to look at my arse far longer than _that._"

His breaths were starting to grow heavier and more rapid. "N-Not saying I _need_ you, but—" _Shit. _Letting out an absolutely pathetic cry, Arthur couldn't stop himself from falling forward, onto his hands and knees, a quiet and choked sob managing to leak up out of his throat. "F-Fuck…"

Alfred grimaced, somewhat wanting to gag at the image of… Well. The beginning-to-gape arsehole, being pulled apart by some kind of force that was readying for the baby to be brought into the world. Jeez, he was going to kill Yao when they saw each other next…

"Artie, I don't know what to do!" He tried not to panic, but the fact that the other had just admitted that there was a chance he was going to have to be midwife… "God, Arthur! It's disgusting! I literally _can't_ look at it!"

Arthur simply grasped at the bed sheets as he waited for the contraction to pass. That… certainly seemed like a long one. And a painful one. And in his mind, it wasn't the blankets he was gripping onto and nearly tearing with his fingernails. It was a certain someone's neck…

"T-Think about what _I_ did when you weren't threatening to tear my dick off and stuff it in my eye socket!" Arthur snapped, his face visibly cringing as he felt some kind of _fluid_ start leaking out of his exit. "G… Godammit, j-just make sure I'm not bleeding, please!?"

"No, man! I'm not looking there!" Alfred shuddered in disgust, not knowing what Arthur was even complaining about. He spent the majority of the birth at his side; was there even a time the other looked at him being stretched?

Although he thought about the amount of times, and ways, he had threatened to mutilate the other's sexual organs, he began to feel slightly guilty, and so, armed with the thought of heroic actions, he peered at the other. "Y- yeah. Just a little…"

"Just a little?" Arthur repeated, giving a small nod towards Alfred. Well, okay, as long as he wasn't losing gallons of blood for whatever reason, there was no need to panic yet. If at all. Keep calm and carry on.

Blaming the trickles of blood and amniotic fluid running down his thighs on his stretching, Arthur let out a low groan and grabbed a throw pillow, before immediately burying his face into it.

Alfred grabbed the others hand, trying to ease his grip away from the pillow, hoping that by using his other hand, which was occupied with the spare towel, to wipe up the liquid from his legs and around his entrance, the other would calm down slightly.

That useless feeling coming over him again, he just repeated over and over, "You're being really brave. You're doing so well. Just a little while longer…" And any other cliché, unhelpful lines that one may think of.

"U-Uhhnnh…" Arthur couldn't stop himself from letting out another pathetic noise as the pillow was taken away from his awful, sweat-streaked face. God, he sounded like an animal being slaughtered right then. "A-Alfred, stop," he swallowed, raising a shaky hand up towards the younger male. "I-I don't want the baby to pop on out in 'just a little while longer'! I-I don't…"

Breathing slowly, the older nation let his body rock forward, the pause between contractions steadily seeming to grow shorter. "I-I don't want you to have to take care of me."

Alfred watched him for a moment, giving the pillow back to him and stopped his stroking of the others backside to back away from him, and take in the sight of Arthur struggling through birth. He felt his heart drop slightly in his chest, knowing that the mother of his child basically did not want him to help…

"Well what am I supposed to do!?" He stopped himself from yelling, but it was not exactly a tone of speaking either. This was Yao's fault. If he was here, then Arthur would be able to have a relaxing birth, and their baby would be born into a nice environment.

The Englishman had every right to scream right back at Alfred. But he didn't.

He just gripped the pillow and flinched slightly, squeezing his eyes shut, which prompted another pair of fat tears to come spilling down his red cheeks. "A-Al, I just don't think this is right! You… I was… I-I was practically your _parent_ when you were little, a-and now I'm m-making you… please, just don't trouble yourself with me. I-I'm fine."

Not.

Alfred actually laughed at that statement. "So I'm not allowed to look at your arse when you're giving birth because you used to be my dad, but oh no, it's fine for me to fuck you?" He wiped away the tears, the smile still slightly lingering on his lips.

"So shall I just do what Yao done? Put my hands in you? Is that it? Ew, but I'll do it if I have to!"

Arthur grit his teeth and managed to force out a chuckle in response to that, but god, if it didn't sound more like a horrible wheezing noise than anything else. "No. N-Not until the baby— _nh—_ g-gets further down."

As if to help his child do just that, the Englishman slowly got up from on his hands and knees, into a kneel over the towel. "…gah. You're so precious. I… I just don't know whether to hug you or smack you for that."

Alfred placed a hand on Arthur's thigh, rubbing his thumb around in circles to sooth the other man and—hopefully—make him feel slightly better. Although, the other seemed to be doing a lot better than he had been… He wanted to say something to cheer the other up, but the only thing he managed to come up with was, "Yeah, well, thanks for making me look like a complete pussy. You're taking all this pain like a champion!"

And he really, _really _hated to admit it.

Arthur twitched slightly, partly wanting to slap Alfred's hand away (he couldn't help it, his inner thighs were a bit of a weak spot for him), but simply decided against it. No need to sour the atmosphere again.

"Oh, Al, that's only because it was your first!" The Englishman wrapped an arm around Alfred's shoulders and gave him a smile — almost a motherly one. "When I had my first, I'm pretty sure I was screaming and crying like a bitch myself!"

Alfred smirked, hoping that by making small talk, Arthur would not hurt as much—or have something else to focus on. So far, it worked well. His hand travelled up again to rub the others stomach.

"Really? I believe you said that you practically slept through having your first child! Besides, how many kids have you had and when do I get to meet them?"

"Heh, I was only trying to motivate you," Arthur grinned right back, giving the younger male's hair another loving ruffle. "I know you don't like it when I'm tougher than you."

Upon realizing he needed to reply to Alfred's… _other_ questions, the relatively cheerful expression on the Englishman's face faltered. And he swore the contractions were getting heavier.

"C… Could we please… not talk about that? J-Just not right now?"

Alfred bit his lip, choosing to ignore the latter part of his answer, and held Arthur's hand again, squeezing it in some kind of comfort, guessing that there was a negative retort to his question. "So, to motivate you, I should just say how Francis could probably do this with no trouble at all?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood again.

"N-NO!" Arthur snapped, flopping back down against the pillows as he attempted to give Alfred the slapping of a lifetime. It ended up looking like was trying to pick a catfight, though. "Y-You even mention that bloody frog and I-I'll tear your nuts off-!"

Alfred would have laughed, but unfortunately he knew Arthur, and actually feared he would go along with it. Refusing to allow his thoughts of "well, you brought up Ivan when I was giving birth", he stopped rubbing at the others middle. "You okay?" He asked, trying to distract the other from his threats. "We nearly there…?"

Giving his boyfriend a look that pretty much nonverbally said _"I don't think Yao is going to show up anytime soon"_, Arthur leaned forward and held Alfred tightly, burying his sweaty face into the crook of his shoulder. "All I need is for you to stay here," he whispered — almost pleaded — albeit slightly muffled.

Alfred pulled away, standing from his place, "I'll be back in a bit, like one second!" He ran down to the kitchen, looking through their freezer; throwing open all of their drawers to find the ice cubes. When he found them, he popped a few from the packet and wrapped them in a cloth and ran back up to the bedroom. "Sorry about that…" He pressed it against the others forehead, trying to cool him down slightly.

"It's quite alright—"

Arthur seemed to flinch as another contraction started up, his face immediately contorting into pain and a slight whimper escaping out of him. The icepack cooling down his face was helping with the stress, if slightly.

But really, it just didn't seem like the baby was going to wait any longer.

"No no no no!" Alfred panicked, watching his face change; the contractions were getting too close together now, "Artie, please, can you just keep it in there for a while longer? Yao will be here and he can help you and it won't be disgusting—!"

Putting on the most intimidating look he could muster, Arthur grabbed the collar of Alfred's shirt and pulled him close. Just close enough so the Brit could sock his boyfriend in the nose if he had to. "Alfred. I can't just 'hold it in', or whatever you want me to do." He inhaled sharply through his nose. "He could _die._"

Alfred stared at him—really, it seemed as if he was more scared that Arthur at that moment—before he pulled the Englishman's grip off his clothing. "I'm sorry… But… Is it time? I- I don't know how to help you what if something goes wrong and it does die and you blame me and you'll hate me and damn it Artie, can we use a fucking rubber from now on?"

"My thoughts exactly," Arthur grunted, shooting Alfred another sharp glare, as he positioned himself to somehow relieve the cramping in his lower back. Perhaps it would've been better if he had Alfred draw him a bath, but… he didn't really feel like walking _anywhere_ at the moment, not even the short distance to the bathroom.

Letting out a heavy breath, the Englishman parted his legs slightly, moving one hand towards Alfred while the other supported himself on the bed. "H-Hold my hand."

So that's a yes.

He done as Arthur wanted, giving the older nation his hand, bracing himself for it being squeezed; figuring so far he had done little in order to help the other become comfortable, and so just sat. Not even looking at the other anymore, instead staring at the blank wall.

He pressed the ice pack against the side of Arthur's face, and then to the other before putting it back onto his forehead; trying to mop up some of the sweat as well as cool him down.

"Alfred." Arthur tugged on the sleeve of his baby daddy's shirt, hoping to get his attention. He didn't blame him for wanting to look away. This was seriously exhausting on the both of them. "I-I'll let you know if I need you to do anything past your comfort level, alright?" He forced out another wheeze-chuckle. "But I think I-I've got this. Don't worry."

Sucking in a gulp of air he'd definitely need, the Brit lightly held Alfred's hand in his, waiting for the inevitable contraction, and—

And he let out quite possibly the most horrible scream of pain.

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to try and shut out the scream, but found it impossible to do so. He was unsure if he was squeezing Arthur's hand, or if it was his hand being squeezed—or both at the same time, most probably.

He looked down to the mother-to-be, forcing himself to smile to say, "Really, Artie, you're gonna wake Amelia up." It was honestly a poor excuse of a way to cheer the other up, but it was all he could think of at that moment.

"Shut up, shut up, _shut up—!_" Alright, so perhaps Arthur was beginning to lapse into that 'screaming birth' sort of scene you see in movies and TV shows all the time. Still, though, if you were in Arthur's place, you'd have a genuinely good reason to start yelling and swearing.

Flushing slightly upon realizing how much he had lost his temper, Arthur loosened his grip on Alfred's hand as he finished his push, wanting nothing more to just go to sleep and somehow have the baby arrive magically.

Alfred practically jumped back as soon as his hand had been released. Biting his lip, he looked back to the wall, wanting to yell back at him that he was only trying to help, because _fuck_, he had no idea what he was supposed to do to make the other feel better!

He opened his mouth to say something supportive, but changed his mind; only ever being scared that he might be yelled at again, or threatened or actually injured.

Maybe it would be best if he just sat there pressing the ice pack to the others head.

God, it was like he wasn't getting any time to rest between contractions at all. Appreciating Alfred's decision to actually shut up — although he couldn't help but be slightly unnerved by the sudden silence in the room, save for the ringing in his ears — Arthur grasped the younger male's arm with both his hands as he pushed again, by now, not even caring that no matter how many towels they used, they'd still have to invest in a clean mattress.

"You're doing so good," Alfred muttered, leaving the ice on his forehead in favour to run a hand through the Briton's hair, which was beginning to stick to any piece of Arthur's skin. He wanted to look, to pretend that he was doing something helpful, but could not bring himself to move lest he piss Arthur off—he knew himself how irritable he had been through childbirth, and apparently it was something that England done too.

Though, he had never been more happy to hear a cry come from the next room.

Arthur felt like his heart just might break upon hearing Amelia in distress. And just when she had gotten to the point of doing more sleeping than crying…

Squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a heavy breath, he lightly tapped on Alfred's arm once more to break him from his daze. "G-Go take care of her. I'm… fine."

Right. He could handle this by himself.

Alfred practically ran from the room to the nursery, not caring that the little girl had not cried anymore. Picking her up from her crib, he placed her on the changing mat; taking his time to change her diaper/nappy. Anything to deny his inevitable return to their bedroom-come-delivery room.

However, once that was done and the little girl was smiling at her mother once more, he knew he had to return soon, but what was the harm in waiting until the other began yelling for him?

Well.

Okay, it kind of hurt. Not the labour pains, of course, that wasn't exactly a 'kind of' sort of hurt. But it was the fact that Alfred made a mad dash out of there as soon as Arthur gave him permission to. It wasn't like Arthur really _needed_ Alfred to help him, but…

But he thought Alfred promised him he would stick by his side.

Realizing that he shouldn't dwell too longer on that matter, he remembered that no amount of snivelling for his boyfriend would deliver his child faster. Clinging to the bed sheets instead of Alfred's hand, Arthur gave another hard push, his voice breaking in the middle of his yelp.

Alfred just held his—wait, no, their—daughter close, silently hoping something else would be wrong with her now that she did not have a dirty backside to aggravate or make her uncomfortable, but when she gave the tell-tale whines that told America she was ready for her nap, he was about ready to pinch her to keep her awake and screaming.

He really had no idea what made him not want to go and sit with his boyfriend; but the smell of birth that seemed to cling to him was more disgusting than he remembered it being when he was in that position. And each time he thought he had become brave enough to enter the room again, he backed down with the girl in his arms.

Some hero he was. Maybe it would be better if he just called Yao and tell him to do anything to get over to the house.

It really didn't feel like he was making any progress.

Of course, the constant ache in his entire back was preventing him from feeling much of anything else. And perhaps he just didn't want to admit it, but it definitely seemed like the baby was _stuck._

Well, perhaps he was only giving half-arsed pushes. Still, though, it wasn't that unbelievable to expect that he wasn't giving his all, considering his source of moral support just fucking walked out on him.

But Arthur still wouldn't just swallow his pride and call Alfred back in. Provided that he _would_ come back if he started screaming in pain… right…?

Alfred felt his heart constrict in his chest at the guilt of leaving Arthur in such a state; after all, he had _begged_ the other to stay by his side. It did not help that Amelia's eyes, that were an almost replica of Arthur's, were looking up at him with the same expression that he could imagine that the Brit would look at him when he went back in the room.

Then again, this was not the first time Arthur had been through this. He knew what to expect. He knew of the pain that he would have to go through in order to bring a new baby into the world. Unless… There was something wrong with the way that he gave birth… And that's why he did not want to talk about his past children…

… No. No, that was not the right way to think, he just had to keep positive. All Arthur had to do was yell out and he would be there, or scream in pain or some kind of emotion that would wake up any instinct of being the father of the others baby, or even just the lover, making him aware that he was in trouble, or the baby was in trouble—

Alfred groaned. Looking down to the little girl, and kissing her on the head. "Just wait a little while longer, I'll be right back." He placed her in her cot, and stood outside the door; the irony smell of birth and blood spilling through from the room enough to make him nearly gag.

Maybe not. Maybe he'd just stand outside and wait for any signs of distress.

Of course, Arthur was entirely oblivious to the fact that Alfred was right outside the door. The poor older male still thought he was doing this task completely solo, and although it pained him that his love just fucking _dumped_ him, he simply couldn't focus on that right now.

Perhaps Alfred had his reasons for staying away. Stupid as they probably were.

But one fear that consistently lingered over him was… god, he didn't even want to think about it, but it was a very real thing. And it had happened before.

Considering how long it had taken for him to move his child down to what seemed like just an inch, if it kept taking this long… it could suffocate.

Not even thinking clearly anymore, Arthur glanced down at his swollen stomach through hazy, tearful eyes, and then, he glanced over at his hand. Perhaps he could just claw it out of him. Yes. That seemed like a rational decision.

It was then that the thought crossed Alfred's mind that maybe, just maybe, the silence was a worse sign of distress than screaming or shouting.

The waters had broken, after all, and he had begun to push, but it was seemed to be taking too long to push the baby out, and the fear that there was something wrong. He opened the door, and peeked in.

"Hey, she needed changing—" He stopped himself, knowing that Arthur probably did not care, and went to sit on the bed next to him, taking the hand that he had been staring at just moments before. "We- you doing okay?"

Arthur just stared dumbly at the thoroughly stained bed sheets for what seemed like several moments. As if he were so deep in a trance of pain, and whatever other emotions that he bottled up inside himself, that it took him that long to realize his hand had been taken by Alfred.

Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, his vision still horribly blurry, although he was able to take in Alfred's face before letting his eyelids fall shut. "Th… hank… 'ou." The Brit was dehydrated. Completely dehydrated. His lips were chapped, and his throat was painfully dry, but of course, all that seemed like a mild scrape compared to the larger problem.

Bowing his head slightly, Arthur let out a noise that sounded like a choked cry, and gave Alfred's hand the stronger squeeze he could manage. "S… Sorry… but y'need to…" He grit his teeth, trying desperately to push through it. "…'hat Yao did."

And Alfred was so incredibly tempted to leave again.

He gulped, nodded and forcing himself to smile to reassure the other man, and sat between the others legs, trying to ensure that his expressions did not falter to let the other know that the sight before him was even more gruesome than he ever could imagine. Suddenly, he had a new found respect for Yao, having done this for himself.

He really wished he could say that he pushed a hand inside of Arthur, but really, it kind of just… Slipped in. Fortunately—well, as fortunate as you can get in this situation—the other too a little more force. "Oh, this is gross," Was all he managed to mutter, until he looked up to the Brit, and saying out loud, "You're doing so great. I'm so proud of you." He was probably going to pay for that later. "Now… What do you want me to do? P- pull it out?"

"N-Not exactly." Arthur cleared his throat — painful as that was — and ran his tongue along his lips, in an attempt to let his voice come out more clearly. "J-Just… see if you can f-feel around for him." God. Even using gendered pronouns were enough to make Arthur tear up. Mentally praying for the best yet fearing the worst, the older male wiped away the hot tears that had cropped up in his eyes, and did his best to peer over at Alfred.

Taking in a heavy breath, he gave his command. "M-Make sure he's not c-coming out feet-first."

Alfred furrowed his brows, seeing the other almost beginning to cry, wanting nothing more than to be able to wipe away the tears. Alas, he dared not remove his hands in order to go through with his wishes, and instead moved them deeper.

He was wrist deep, feeling around the inside walls when he came across the intrusion.

He looked up to the other, biting hard enough on his lip he was sure he would draw blood, he looked back up to Arthur. How was he supposed to say that he was holding onto their little baby's foot so tightly, without ever coming across the head?

"It- it is… Feet first…"

Arthur felt like his heart just stopped right there and then.

Some voice inside his head kept repeating, taunting him, that their child was definitely gone by now, and although the Brit wanted to hear none of it, hoping that the baby was anything else but dead was purely childish ignorance.

He had no bullet to bite, so Arthur grabbed a handful of a blanket and brought it up to his mouth, just waiting for the inevitable. "A… Alright." It was very obvious that he was trying to keep his calm, however, he was failing terribly at it, and every word he spoke had a weak waver to it. "H-Hold onto _its_ shoulders and pull it through, a-and then it's head. D-Don't yank it out, o-or I'll…" Too exhausted to even think of a colourful threat, Arthur let his head fall back against his pillow, quietly letting a defeated sob leak out.

Alfred watched the once powerful figure above him basically fall apart, and wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him closely as he brought their screaming baby into the world; maybe there was a chance though that their baby was alive. Although by the looks of it, Arthur was not going to listen to the other.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed his hands up further; feeling over the body that the two should have been looking after, that Arthur should have been nursing. It was too human, way too human, and gripped gently onto the small shoulders. Pulling carefully, he looked up, "A- Artie? You gonna push to help me? Or…?"

Giving a small nod towards the other man, Arthur took the wet sheet in-between his teeth, immediately pushing as the next contraction struck him. By now, it felt like he was a wet blanket getting rung out…

Part of him wanted to scream at Alfred, tell him to drop what he was doing, and get a knife and a bottle of gin and cut the damn brat out of him already. Still, he was far too tired to be able to successfully convince the American to do such a thing, and instead, held his push for as long as he could.

"H-How are you doing?" the older nation asked the other, keeping his eyes focused on a blank wall across from him.

Alfred kept watching as bit by bit his forearms emerged from the other—a sight that he honestly would never be able to get from his memory, but he had more important matters at that moment. "Can I have a few more really big pushes? You're doing so amazing," he mumbled, looking up to him, despite the fact that he was looking straight through the American, "You know what? I don't think even Franc- anyone could do what you're doing right now."

He looked for a way to comfort him with touch, and tried his best to rub Arthur's inner walls, but whether that would make him realise what was happening and break him even more or actually do its job would be up to the other.

There was simply no other way to describe the look on Arthur's face other than 'out of it'. He looked as if he was off in his own little world, to cope with what was happening, although part of him remained at the situation at hand to give his boyfriend the orders as needed.

And, of course, all of Alfred's flattery was going through one ear and out the other.

"Guhhh…" Arthur let out a low groan as he pushed again, his entire lower area feeling like it was ran over by a truck. Twice. Somehow, his nether regions managed to both surge with pain, and feel uncomfortably numb.

Alfred placed a hand on the back of the baby's head, feeling it being pushed down a substantial amount with the force of the two—both the mothers natural birth and his own pulling on the body—and guessed that the feet and the rest of the body would emerge soon. "One more big push, okay, sweetie? Then it's just the head to go!"

When he dared to look down, he could barely see the feet coming into the world; he ceased pulling the baby with an ever so slight force to look at the tiny appendages, although covered in the mess that was birth, was probably the most beautiful thing he had seen (since Amelia, of course).

It was not until he felt the tears hitting his arm, was he aware of the stinging in his eyes.

Arthur's head wavered slightly, as if he was giving a small nod. Really, although it looked like he was completely tuning out everything, the older male was trying his best to cope with the sensory overload. Perhaps it was simply his body's way of giving him painkillers.

_Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive,_ Arthur mentally repeated to himself, useless as it was. As Alfred commanded him to push, Arthur immediately braced himself for the contraction and did so, a strangled scream escaping out of his throat as he threw his head back.

And all he could see was red.

The baby was born; and Alfred done everything just as Yao had done for Amelia. Cut the cord, wrapped it up in a spare towel they had and gave it to Arthur—although he seemed in a slight world of his own, the baby was just placed on his chest—but he stood back away from the scene, allowing the mother a moment with the baby, and allowing Arthur to see for himself the fate of their family.

But the baby — neither of them looked at its sex yet — wasn't crying. Or moving. And not breathing, either. Its body was warm, having just entered the world from its mother, but in time, that would likely soon evaporate.

Arthur too, was just barely there, and the only signs that he was still with Alfred were the occasional fluttering of his closed eyelids, and his slowing-down breaths, as if he were resting after running for several miles.

After a few moments, the Englishman was able to part his dry lips and speak, a shaky hand moving up to where the child was placed on his breast. "…h-how… is it?"

Alfred's teeth returned to tugging on the bottom lip again; the wellbeing of the baby was painfully obvious in the silence that rung around the room, what was there to say? 'I'm sorry'? Not exactly the most consoling way after someone had just given birth to a… Body. He did not feel right intruding on a private moment such as this to comfort him physically.

He just smiled, despite that hot feeling in his eyes beginning to build up again, hoping to convey every emotion that he felt; the sound of a baby beginning to whine pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned away silently to leave the room and attend to Amelia.

Arthur quietly watched Alfred as he walked away. Although his vision was foggy, he still managed to get a good look at the younger nation, that silly little curlicue in his golden-blonde hair waving slightly with each step he took.

Such a beautiful boy Alfred was. And, Arthur hoped that this child — a son, just like he had wanted — would be gifted with his father's gorgeous looks.

Perhaps he was.

Unable to stand wallowing in misery for any longer, the Brit wiped the streams of tears from his cheeks, and did his best to sit up straight, despite feeling like his spine was completely snapped. Bringing the corpse up to his face, he bowed his head and pressed his lips against the baby's, before blowing a puff of air into tiny lungs.

Alfred heard the movement on the bed, and stopped in his tracks, just outside of the door, to watch what he could safely dub as the most heart-breaking of scenes before him. A brand new mother with their deceased child; practically relying on instinct to get the baby to breathe again.

Amelia was not fully crying yet. Besides, there was another person who required his attention at that moment.

He moved closer, but not too close to distract Arthur from his work, but close enough to watch the rise and fall of the baby's chest—_what sex was it anyway?_—with each breath Kirkland would give to it. But each time he pulled away, the lungs would become empty again.

"Artie…" He muttered, voice straining in order to try and hide what he felt. Trying to keep his strong act up for the older nation, despite the fact that he had more than likely seen this, or even experienced it, before. It probably never got easier.

Arthur couldn't hear anything — not Alfred's snivels, not Amelia's whimpering — other than the sound of his own breaths, and his heart pounding in his ears. In fact, he didn't even have any emotion on his face, even though he'd have every right to sob and be in hysterics. But he wasn't. His face was as expressionless as a stone, and seemed more like a doctor giving CPR to a patient, rather than a mother to his own son.

But that was Arthur. Only turned into an emotional wreck when drunk, or when he knew all hope was lost.

He repeated the procedure for what seemed like fifteen minutes, soon growing closer to twenty-five. The child remained still, and becoming less warm with each passing minute.

Arthur paused for a moment, his lips pressed together, as if he were confused. Or trying to hold back a whimper. Still determined to achieve a more positive outcome, though, he took his index and middle fingers and pressed it into the child's chest area, right where his heart would be.

"Arthur," Alfred said louder, trying to get his attention, moving closer. It broke his heart to see the older man trying frantically to get the baby—would it be easier if they referred to them as an it?—to breathe, to basically be alive, when it had been dead for so long.

"Arthur!" He hugged the person in question, using it as a way to restrain the others arms; pulling his head to rest on his chest, hoping that it would calm him down somewhat. Muttering how it would be alright, that things happen—even that they have Amelia—in hopes that the other would… Not be happy, exactly, but stop in his futile attempts of CPR.

But it was around that thought that they heard a tiny gasp for breath below them.

Arthur stared at the baby's flushed, scrunched-up little face, the expression on his own appearing both relieved and full of awe. Tightly holding the tiny new-born in his hands — he was even smaller than Amelia when she arrived — he let their son's head tilt downward, allowing him to cough up anything that was suffocating him, until his little breaths and heartbeat fell into a regular rhythm.

The Englishman looked up at his boyfriend, doing his best to smile for the other, although his face was just as red and damp as their baby's. "I-It's a boy," he told the other, pulling the squirming child closer to his breast.

Alfred could only stare at the tiny figure, watching him breathe and make those small delayed noises babies done when they are first born. Their new son seemed to feel around the others chest—with hands that looked as though they would break if Alfred were to hold them—with closed eyes.

"So… What do you want to call him?" Was all the American could manage to say; hardly noticing anyone else in the world except from the little boy in front of him.

Arthur mulled over the question in his head for several moments, more concerned with keeping the tiny child warm and comfortable; forming that special bond with him. "I… I like the name William." He smiled up at Alfred once more, letting his aching head rest against the younger male's chest — which was still slightly soft, thanks to those pounds he gained from Amelia.

Alfred bent down slightly, allowing himself to see boy closer for himself; running a hand over his head. He did feel a bond with the boy, just… It did not seem as strong as the one he had with Amelia. "Hey, William, welcome to the family." He smiled down at the man leaning on his chest. "He's gonna be an annoying little kid, ain't he?"

The Brit didn't even argue with what Alfred said. He turned his gaze away from the child, towards the bloody mess of ruined sheets and towels and _god knows what_ splattered across the bed. Certainly looked like a massacre. "Mhm. Yes. Rather _annoying_, indeed." With no hard feelings, he let out a tired sigh and grinned. "Like someone _else_ I know."

And then, he paused. And smiled even wider. "…I want Amelia to meet her little brother."

Alfred wanted to defend himself, and insult the older man, but he found that he could not deny Arthur this after… Well, basically losing and gaining a child in one day. He nodded, going to the nursery next to their bedroom and taking the little girl from her crib.

When he re-entered the other room, he sat down next to Arthur on the bed, raising Amelia just high enough to see her younger brother. "Say hi to William!" And in return, Amelia gurgled happily, looking at the tiny boy in interest.

* * *

**I honestly think I was supposed to be take the role of Yao during Arthur's birth, but let's ignore that :P**


End file.
